


Cleansing

by Mapal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 89,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mapal/pseuds/Mapal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Apocalypse has been averted, or has it? Things are never that easy. Set after season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to my beloved Michelle for all her support. This would never have been written if it weren't for her. Also thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed it so far, all your feedback has been amazing!

It had started off as a regular haunting, just some vengeful spirit which, compared to most things nowadays, was a rather simple task. It should have just been a case of salting and burning the bones, maybe a bit of a fight to save some idiot people that got themselves involved somehow, but things had gotten considerably darker as soon as they had realised all the doors and windows were locked, and that it was certainly not a vengeful spirit. They should have known, really, that the rumours about the big haunted house were getting into peoples’ heads. They should have known something was off when no one had really seen the ghost, despite the fact that murders had resembled the crimes committed by the old serial killer. It became painfully clear what was behind the deaths as Dean’s giant of a brother was knocked clean off his feet and thrown into a nearby wall, as five figures stepped out of the shadows in front of them, eyes black with possession. They really just could not get a break from this demon crap. Dean was next to be flung by the rough hands of a tall and broad man, and he felt the side of an old wooden dresser slam into chest, knocking the wind straight out of his lungs. He wanted to snap out a witty greeting but he was very aware that he could hardly breathe. They were overwhelmed surprisingly fast, as if this had been the plan all along. There were certainly not prepared for a demon incident, and before Dean could even reach the holy water in his jacket pocket he was being hauled to his feet by two demons. They were strong, _of course_. Before he could manage another thought, everything went black as a fist connected with the side of his head.

~*~

Dean let out a low hiss as he examined the cut on his hairline. It was deep and bloody and a shining example of why you should always be prepared for demon attacks. It was some sort of miracle that they had escaped, a shade of luck that had led to Dean finally reaching his holy water and distracting them long enough for Sam to grab the knife and take down the ring leader of the little pack. After fighting through what seemed like a hundred demons before managing to reach the Impala and get the hell out of there, they were both completely exhausted. Sam had collapsed on the bed as soon as they reached the motel and secured the doors and windows, and Dean could feel his whole body aching dully as he studied his injuries in the mirror. He was about to lift his shirt and check the continuous sharp throbbing in his ribs when he heard the flutter of wings followed by a soft thud. “Well, Cas, better late than never,” he called from the bathroom, but no reply came back. He hesitated for a moment, fingers tightening slightly on the hem of his shirt as he turned towards the door. Castiel was neither invading his personal space nor speaking, and that had him slightly worried. His eyes landed on the trench-coated figure leaning against the dresser in the bedroom and he felt his stomach drop. The tan coat was bloodstained and the shirt was barely noticeable as white any more. “Cas!” He was beside the angel in seconds, supporting him around his torso before he fell to the ground. Blue eyes turned up to him, slightly wide with pain and surrounded by small trickles of blood.

   “I came as fast as I could,” he choked out, one hand gripping Dean’s shirt tightly as he steadied himself. Dean stared at those bright blue eyes for a moment, a frown crossing his face.

   “Well,” he started slowly, heaving Castiel gently to the bed and helping him to sit down. “I’m glad you did. What even did this to you?” There was not a lot that could do such damage to an angel, Dean knew that much. He glanced over his shoulder as he went into the bathroom to get a damp cloth, seeing Castiel hunched over on the end of the bed, head buried in his hands. “Cas?” Dean called cautiously as he ran a cloth under the warm water coming from the tap, a little unnerved by the silence. It was not until he was knelt on the floor reaching up to clean some of the blood from the angel’s face that he finally received an answer.

   “The angels,” he muttered quietly, his eyes watching Dean with a slight distance, as if he were still really not all there. Dean gritted his teeth a little and pressed the cloth against a particularly nasty gash on Castiel’s hairline. He hissed and recoiled, eyes clamping shut for a moment before he cracked one open to look once again at the man. “It still hurts,” he grumbled under his breath. Dean raised one eyebrow and reached his other hand to hold his head in place by the jaw, his grip firm.

   “You’re such a baby,” he sighed, pressing the cloth against the wound again and ignoring the cringing.

   “I am not,” Castiel argued quietly, his eyes narrowing towards Dean. He had stopped squirming so much as the man cleaned the cuts around his brow and along his jaw. They had really done a number on him, Dean noted, as he found more and more little grazes.

   “Maybe you should just get a shower or something,” he grumbled, straightening up and moving to wash out the cloth and refresh it a little. When he returned, the angel was rubbing his eyes with one blood-stained hand, squinting against his exhaustion. “Actually, maybe you should sleep. Stop that.” He grabbed the hand that was quickly undoing all the good work he had done on Castiel’s face, running the cloth over his fingers to remove the worst of it. It was like cleaning up some grubby little child, he thought.

   “Sleep sounds nice,” Castiel sighed, rubbing his eyes again with his now clean hand as Dean wiped down the fingers on the other. It was then that he noticed the state of the angel’s clothes, covered in dirt and blood and giving off a rather unpleasant odour. He wrinkled his nose as he cleaned his palms, scrubbing a little to get some stubborn grime off.

   “What did you do, dive into a ditch?” He rocked back to sit on his heels, pleased with his work and tossing the cloth onto the bedside table. Castiel frowned, but not particularly in Dean’s direction, his eyes slipping down to his hands.

   “Renaissance France is not the cleanest of places,” his voice was quiet again, and Dean narrowed his eyes, head shaking.

   “Renaissance France? Seriously?” He stood and motioned for the angel to do the same before he helped him out of the trench coat. Great, now he was undressing an angel who was a little too like a manchild, that was exactly what he needed after a day like that.

   “Yes,” Castiel said simply, brows furrowing slightly as he let Dean strip his torso down to his shirt, feeling the slight chill of the motel room damp against his back. Then it all came back to him yet again and his gaze dropped. “I lost them after 1920.” He should have known Dean would not stop at the shirt, with the filth that coated it, but suddenly he found his hand rushing up to stop the man, his eyes slightly wide. “That can stay on.” Dean’s hands did not move from the buttons, his eyes narrowing once more as he met the suddenly wide blue gaze of the angel.

   “Why? It’s not like I’m going to fondle an angel of the Lord or anything,” the man grumbled, going again to unbutton the shirt. Castiel pushed his hands away a little more forcefully this time, eyes darting to the floor nervously. “Or maybe the angel of the Lord is self-conscious,” he chided gently, eyebrows lifting slightly.

   “No I’m not,” Castiel blurted out seriously, and then wished he had not said that. Maybe lying about not being self-conscious was better than admitting the truth. He cringed again, face scrunching up a little. “Yes, yes I am self-conscious, now please leave the shirt,” he tried to cover quickly. Dean lifted his hands in defeat and motioned to Castiel’s feet.

   “Fine, fine, whatever, just take your shoes off.” He was a little concerned, he had to admit. It was rare for the angel to be so shady about something, and shady was certainly the way to describe this. Dean moved around the bed as the angel sat back down and went to take his shoes off, and that was when Dean’s eyes landed on the stains, deep and red and trickling right down from either shoulder blade, nearly to the bottom of his shirt. The man froze, eyes widening slightly, and he did not move until Castiel sat up, his shoes removed. Suddenly he tensed, as if feeling the eyes upon him, and his head slowly turned over his shoulder to look at Dean.

   “What… what’s that?” Castiel’s face twisted into something near agitation, one hand running through his still matted hair.

   “Blood, Dean,” he grumbled, rolling his shoulders awkwardly.

   “Yeah, yeah I can see that… but… but why?” Suddenly Dean was in front of him again, and Castiel closed his eyes for a moment before looking away. Dean glanced over to his sleeping brother, who was still snoring like a chain saw, before returning his eyes to the hunched figure in front of him.

   “Only an angel truly knows how to hurt another angel,” his voice was barely audible, but he did not fight as Dean went to unbutton the shirt again. “They were trying to stop me from running, or, rather, flying.”

   “And?” Dean peeled the shirt gently away from the wounds, which looked even uglier than he had anticipated. The cuts were deep and precise and still oozing gently.

   “It didn’t work, I managed to jump into time,” Castiel explained quietly, burying his face in his hands again as Dean moved to the bedside table to grab the cloth again. Castiel would never admit what happened to him, not fully.  They had managed to tie him down, to bind him, and then they had attempted to torture him for information. Angels knew very intimate methods of torture. He trembled slightly as he felt the cloth on his lower back, wiping up the dried blood that had trickled down from the deep wounds on his shoulders. It was almost relaxing, he guessed, as he let the other man clean it all away carefully. Castiel was so wrapped up in how good it felt to be clean again, that he realised too late what was about to happen. He jerked forwards just as Dean’s hand reached the cuts on his shoulders, but his actions were in vain. Once again Dean froze. They had appeared from nowhere, but there were certainly there now. Dean had always figured their wings were more metaphorical than real, a shadow being cast but not an actual physical thing, but they were there, right in front of him. The span was large, he could tell, but the wings were folded untidily against Castiel’s back, and that was when Dean’s heart sank at the sight of them and the state they were in. He glanced across to Sam to check his brother was still asleep, and then turned his gaze back to the soft, grey feathers. They were dark but somehow shimmered, and they were covered in blood. He was entranced; there was no other word for it. He did not notice the tension in the angel as his fingers reached out to the soft downy feathers near the bone structure. Castiel groaned, rocking forward a little more on the edge of the bed as Dean inspected the feathers. He was no expert in angel anatomy, but he was sure there should be more. He guessed the blood was coming from where feathers had been removed, and by the way Castiel buried his face deep in his hands and sucked in his breath he guessed it hurt a lot.

   “Is… is there anything I can do?” He was completely lost. He knew how to patch himself up, to stitch up cuts and holes and stop infection, but wings? He had no idea what to do, and that frustrated him. Castiel shook his head gently and straightened a little, daring to stretch his wings a fraction. This only resulted in his scrunching up his face in pain.

   “They will heal,” the angel said quietly as he inspected his right wing. It was worse than he had thought. “I hope,” he added, noticing that a few of his flight feathers were missing. Suddenly he was glad he had come to Dean as soon as he had lost the group of angels. He would not be able to fly again for a while, and he knew there was not really another place he would rather be stranded. Getting to Dean had been slow and like flying through a blender because of the pain and the absence of some of his important feathers, but he had known that was where he needed to be. Dean always knew what to do.

   Castiel wondered for a moment why his wings had would not disappear again, and then he noticed the hand still on his left wing preventing it from vanishing back into its metaphorical form, and the dampness that he could feel on his feathers. He turned his head over his left shoulder to see Dean sat behind him, tongue stuck out in concentration, cleaning the blood off each feather meticulously having already cleaned up a lot of the blood around the base of the wings. “Dean,” he started gruffly, closing his eyes at the warm sensation spreading through him. His wings were sensitive and the water was warm, the warmth seeping into the rest of his body. “They will heal,” he repeated gently, but firmly. The man did not look up, trailing the cloth down one of the long flight feathers, sending a visible shiver through Castiel.

   “Sorry,” he said quickly, withdrawing his hand. “Didn’t mean to hurt-“

   “It didn’t hurt,” he grumbled, folding his wings down again. “I just… they’ll heal.” With Dean’s touch relenting, the wings were suddenly gone again and the angel let out a long sigh.

   “Why don’t you just heal up, anyway? Out of angel mojo?” He tossed the cloth down again and straightened up from where had been sat behind Castiel. A pair of serious blue eyes looked up at him, a weariness in them that he had seen a few times before. Castiel was not in the mood for joking about his ‘mojo’.

   “I… I have lost my connection,” he said simply, looking back down at his hands. “My powers are now minimal, and I used what I had left to escape the others.” He looked over his shoulder to where Dean had pulled back the sheets of the creaky old motel bed. Dean could see Castiel was running on nearly empty.

   “Well maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.” He motioned to the bed and Castiel slowly climbed over to lie down on the cool sheets. “You can have a shower then, too, ‘cause you smell like sewer,” he plastered a grin on his face as he watched the angel curl up under the sheets, those large blue eyes frowning up at him. Dean left him then, flicking off the light in the room and heading back into the bathroom to finally sort out his own injuries. The painful throbbing around his chest was still there, but he had forgotten about it while he had tended to the angel. Now the pain was back with vengeance. He braced himself against the sink and looked in the mirror, his mind wandering back to those wings. He had seen a lot of weird crap in his time, stuff other people would never believe even if it walked up and slapped them in the face, so he was not surprised that he had not been wholly surprised at the wings. Yet, now he thought about it, he was in a minor shock. Angels really did have wings, and they were not pearly white, or at least Castiel’s were not. Dean could not help but wonder if this was another thing that separated his angel from the rest of the heavenly soldiers, along with the defiance and his increasing ability to understand and use sarcasm.  _His_ angel? He certainly had no possession over Castiel, and yet he felt protective, as if no one had the right to abuse his angel in such a way. He glanced over his shoulder towards the bedroom before sighing and pulling his shirt off over his head.

   It was just as ugly as he had expected, a dark bruise forming over his ribs. Well, it was certainly broken, he mused as he pressed his fingers against his ribcage and felt the bones shift. That was all he needed. He ran the tap and washed his face off, the water cool and refreshing against his skin. He took a bit of time to clean his own wounds, glad that most of the cuts were shallow and not really a big deal. He finished shortly and picked his shirt off the side of the bathtub where he had dropped it and headed back into the room, looking to his brother as the man who barely fitted on the bed rolled over to face the door, fretting for a moment before dropping back into a deeper sleep. Dean suddenly stopped, aware of a warm sensation in his ribs. He could feel a gentle pressure there, and he slowly looked down to see a hand pressed against the side of his chest, gentle warmth radiating from the palm, and not a bruise in sight. His eyes darted to Castiel, the faint glint of his eyes staring back up at him sleepily. He had a small smile on his face, satisfied at the result of his touch. His fingers lingered for a moment before slowly slipping away, his arm dropping back down onto the bed. Dean did not move, his eyes locked onto the gaze of the angel through the darkness of the room.

   “I thought you were out of mojo,” he muttered, fingers wringing at the shirt he held in his hands. The stabbing and throbbing pains in his chest were gone, replaced by the still lingering warmth of the angel’s touch. Castiel closed his eyes again.

   “I am now,” he said sleepily as he rolled over, curling back up into the sheets. Dean stared a moment longer, taking in the darkness of the deep wounds on Castiel’s shoulders, a contrast to his pale skin. Of all the places he could have gone, he had chosen to return to the brothers in his time of need. Dean did not know if it was out of his protectiveness or the feeling of safety having the angel around that made him glad that Castiel had chosen to come to them. He wanted to disregard the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings in his mind, but he found that as he settled down on the sofa to sleep that they only got worse. The angel had used his last scrap of energy to heal some broken ribs, instead of his own wings. Why had he kept that scrap in reserve? Why had he come to them for help when there were surely other places better equipped to handle his problems? Dean had prayed and prayed for a bit of help when they were fighting the demons, but he knew it was not the angel’s place to help them out of every little problem they ran into. He had expected a lecture on the more important things in this world when the angel had appeared; he had even prepared a few retorts and comments for the occasion. The sight of Castiel in such a broken and vulnerable state was a little unnerving, but Dean had to say he was glad to have him around. Having an angel hanging about was always a comfort. His last thoughts as he fell asleep were of those wings, large and grey but so utterly destroyed. He imagined what they were like when they had not been mutilated, how grand they must be with all their flight feathers intact. He remembered what they felt like, softer than satin and barely there, as if his fingers were moving over the air itself. He wanted to touch them again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The look of pure frustration on the angel’s face only made Dean grin wider as he peeled off his own shirt and climbed into the tub behind Castiel, pulling the curtain across slightly to stop the spray escaping and making the bathroom a hazard that Castiel would surely become victim of.

The next day Dean woke to someone shaking his shoulder roughly. He growled against the cushion on the sofa where he was sprawled face down, pushing away the ginormous man hand that was assaulting him. “Dean,” his brother’s sleepy voice was slightly agitated. “Why is there an angel sleeping in our motel room?” Dean forced his eyes open, grumbling something under his breath as he sat up, eyes landing immediately on the form that was curled up tight in the sheets, only a crop of brown hair visible. Last night came back to him as his sleep-muddled brain woke up slowly.

   “Oh, that. He ran out of angel juice so I let him crash here,” he brushed it off, flexing his back and realising that maybe the sofa had not been a good idea. Sam stared at Castiel for a few minutes, seeming to piece things together in his tired mind. Eventually he rubbed a hand through his messy hair and shrugged.

   “Okay, cool,” he did not pry any further, padding to the bathroom to go about his business. Dean groaned to himself and ran a hand over his face, leaving it to cover his eyes for a few minutes as he composed himself. He had been exhausted the previous night and for once had slept like a log, and his head was protesting at being woken up so rudely at such an ungodly hour. He pushed himself up from the sofa and moved over towards the bed where Castiel was sleeping, his breath coming out in sharp, fast little pants. He was fretting in his sleep; Dean had watched Sam sleeping when he himself had been unable to enough to know what it looked like. He reached down and shook the angel lightly, watching him stir and scrunch up his face, a few deep breaths escaping him as he opened his eyes blearily. Angels never slept. He was not used to being plagued with thoughts he could not control. He had trouble realising what was happening as he rolled over to look at the man standing over him, a frown coming onto his face. A sharp pain in his shoulders reminded him all too suddenly and he closed his eyes again, a long groan escaping him.

   “How you feelin’, Cas?” Dean asked as he went to shuffle through his duffle bag, checking for a clean shirt. He received no answer at first as Castiel gathered himself together, opening his eyes again to stare at the ceiling.

   “I feel… awful,” he grumbled, feeling how matted his hair was as he passed a hand through it. His body felt stiff and achy, the dried up wounds on his back causing pain each time he moved his shoulders. He focused on the cuts, mustering up the little energy he had regained to patch them up a little and stop them weeping, but he was still painfully aware of them. He let out a deep breath as he felt tired again, but pushed himself up nonetheless, feeling his body protest right down to his bones. He wondered if this was how the brothers felt after each difficult battle, after their muscles had relaxed and seized up. Dean looked over from his search to find a shirt to see Castiel leaning down to pick up his own shirt from the floor, face slightly horrified at the state it was in. It was stained and torn and in no fit state to be worn.

   “We’ll get you another one,” Dean said reassuringly. “Here, wear this for now.” He tossed over one of his older t-shirts, black with some sort of faded design on it. Castiel picked it up from the bed after failing to catch it and eyed it up for a moment. As the door to the bathroom clicked open he suddenly pulled the shirt on over his head in a bit of a scramble, head popping out of the collar just in time to see Sam walk from the bathroom, hair still a bit of a wild mess. The taller man glanced to the angel sat in Dean’s bed wearing Dean’s slightly too large shirt and smirked, more to himself than anyone else in the room. He kept his mouth shut; Castiel looking every bit like one of the many women Dean had slept with would be useful for future torments. Sam sat on the beaten sofa heavily and tugged his laptop towards him as Dean finally found a satisfactory t-shirt for the day and pulled it on. Castiel watched silently from the bed, a bit at a loss. He figured he should be doing something, but he really was not sure what. Finally Dean gave him the prompt he had been waiting for, moving towards the bathroom door and motioning for him to follow. He obliged, clambering out of bed and finding that his legs failed him somewhat. They were heavy and painful and he grunted softly to himself as he staggered through the bathroom door. This was worse than the time he had been drunk and his vessel had protested greatly at the aftermath of the sensation. “You still need a shower,” Dean said gruffly, flicking on the showerhead to warm the water. His gaze moved back to the angel stood awkwardly near him, eyes to the floor. He swallowed, glancing towards the bedroom for a moment before returning his gaze to Castiel. He was curious; he had been since the previous night. He lowered his voice so only the angel could hear him. “How… how are they today?” Blue eyes lifted to him with a small frown before a flicker of recognition flicked across his features, his own gaze darting towards the bedroom. Dean was the first human to see his wings; he was not comfortable with the possibility of another human seeing him essentially naked.

   “Very uncomfortable,” he grumbled. Dean nodded and pushed the bathroom door closed, causing raised eyebrows from his brother in the other room and another smirk, before squaring back up to Castiel, motioning to his shirt.

   “Alright, let’s see.” His voice was gently demanding and suggested immediately that Castiel was not about to worm his way out of this one. For a long moment he stared at the man in front of him, thinking to himself that this whole situation was more uncomfortable than his wings. Eventually he sighed and crossed his arms over his torso, pulling the shirt back off over his head. Making his wings a physical form while he was wearing clothes often resulted in ripped garments. He felt Dean’s hands warm on his shoulders as he was turned around to face the wall, and then those hands slipped down across his shoulder blades. The wings manifested themselves into their physical form again, knocking a complementary bottle of soap off the side of the bath. Castiel scrambled to grab it but was too late, the plastic container making a horrible clatter against the tub. Dean thought he heard a frustrated growl from the angel and grinned, pulling him back upright. “You’re like a Chihuahua, Cas. Calm the fuck down,” he muttered, inspecting the feathers as he finally straightened up and stood still. They had bled again during the night, the dark liquid tainting the smoky colour of the feathers. Castiel sighed and closed his eyes, wondering if he was fed up of his wings being prodded and poked or actually enjoying it too much.

   “It’s just… uncomfortable,” he said in a hushed voice that still somehow came out deep and gravelly. Dean snorted slightly with laughter, causing a scowl from the man in front of him. “I don’t see how my discomfort is funny.” He turned to face Dean, his wings flaring out slightly from where they had clamped down after the soap bottle incident. Dean only proceeded to grin, causing the frown to deepen on Castiel’s face.

   “Why does everything have to be so serious with you? Just… sit down on the side of the tub.” He motioned to the bath and watched him glare at it for a moment before perching on the edge, or rather flopping down a bit too heavily and nearly slipping backwards, causing his wings to flap a little wildly and take out the soap bottle he had righted again. The look of pure frustration on the angel’s face only made Dean grin wider as he peeled off his own shirt and climbed into the tub behind Castiel, pulling the curtain across slightly to stop the spray escaping and making the bathroom a hazard that Castiel would surely become victim of. He was surprised that the wings were still physical and in front of him as he detached the showerhead and gently took up the limb of his right wing in his free hand. Castiel let him run the water from the showerhead over the feathers, feeling the warm water trickle down each feather, refreshing them. He could also feel Dean’s fingers, firm in their grip as they kept his wing stretched out, but also gentle as they released their pressure to rub the grime from his feathers. It was a thoroughly deep cleansing, Castiel mused. His wings had always just healed and cleaned themselves, staying at the back of his mind in their metaphorical state. He was always aware of them but they passed through objects and never hindered him, at least not until they had been mutilated. Now he was constantly aware of them. He shuddered as Dean’s fingers inspected a sharp barb under the cover of the fluffier feathers near the bone structure. He gritted his teeth and knotted his fingers in his hair, biting back a groan that wanted to surface so badly. He felt the man hesitate and glanced over his shoulder at him.

   “It’s a new feather,” he muttered, releasing his grip on his own hair. “It’s like an open nerve.” Dean held his hand up in understanding, nodding to reinforce it.

   “Alright, I won’t touch that again,” he said easily, returning to the task at hand. Castiel found he enjoyed it greatly, having his wings washed. He had never considered it as something that would happen, or that he would try, but he thought maybe he would try it again in the future. Maybe if he was a cat he would purr in contentment, but instead he simply sat quietly, eyes closed, as he felt warm water and warm hands run softly through the sensitive feathers. They slipped into a long silence, not even speaking as Dean moved to the other wing, causing Castiel to have to shuffle along the edge of the bath and get slightly tangled in the shower curtain.

   To say Dean was impressed by Castiel’s wingspan was an understatement. The angel’s wings did not extend fully within the bathroom and were certainly a dominating feature. Dean found himself stretching the limbs up above his head to clean them as thoroughly as he would like, causing quite a lot of splash-back onto him from the crappy motel showerhead. He was also fascinated at how the water barely seemed to touch the feathers. It was like he was washing a duck, the water landing in droplets before simply slipping off. He had maybe expected the feathers to go all droopy and not look nearly as magnificent, but they kept all their gracefulness even under the assault of the water. Luckily the blood was not so resilient to his attempts at cleaning, and he was pleased as he glanced down to see the water running slightly red with it, meaning that it no longer stained the pure definition of perfection in front of him. Perfection? It was a term Dean never thought about lightly. Some burgers were perfection, certain weapons were perfection, the odd girl was perfection. He guessed there was no other way to describe an angel’s wings other than perfect.

   Dean was almost sad when he was finished, hooking the showerhead back up and clambering out of the bath, a task made much easier as the wings simply disappeared again. He thought, however, that just out of the corner of his eye he could still see them. He wondered if maybe that was always the case, but no one ever paid enough attention. His jeans from yesterday were soaked and he was glad he had pulled his socks off at some point during the night. He picked up his shirt from where he had tossed it on the floor and looked back to Castiel. “I’m sure you know how to wash yourself,” he said simply, and the angel nodded, deciding not to say out loud that Dean had just washed a part of him that was more sensitive and private than any human genitalia, and so it would hardly matter if Dean now saw him completely naked and washed the rest of him. Dean left him to it, drawing another smirk from his brother as he came back into the bedroom half naked and looking like he had taken a shower himself. “Don’t even start,” he warned, catching the look and returning it with a glare before he pulled his shirt back on.

   “I wasn’t going to say a word,” Sam said with a grin, looking back to his laptop. Any opportunity to mock his brother for his lack of masculinity was a good opportunity, especially after all the taunts he received from Dean.

   “Yeah, keep it that way,” Dean growled under his breath as he threw himself down on the bed, the sheets still all tangled up. The bed smelled like sewer.

~*~

Castiel watched the water fall from his hair into the bathtub, running a dirty red with the grime and blood from his hair. He knew how to wash himself, sure, but for the moment he could not bring himself to. One hand was pressed firmly to the cold, tiled wall as he stood with his head bowed beneath the falling water. He ached all over and he was exhausted, and for now he was simply content with the soothing sensation of the water trickling down his back. He was confused as to why he enjoyed the warm liquid making its way down his spine; after all it was a very normal thing to happen in this mortal world. Maybe that was why he liked it so much, because it was something he never got to enjoy. Or maybe it was something more. He remembered the feel of warm hands, rough from years of hunting, and he felt a shiver run straight to the tips of his feathers. The shiver startled him, a very human response to a very illogical thought, and he finally straightened up, the water falling against his chest as he looked up at the showerhead. A sigh passed his lips and he picked up the abused bottle of soap, pushing thoughts of hands out of his mind and also the thoughts of how illogical those thoughts were. It was best not to think about these things, he decided. It was most likely a side-effect of his powers being diminished, of being almost mortal for this brief period of time.

   The air was cold against his wet skin as he stepped from the shower. He grabbed the towel from the rail and dried himself quickly, eager to rid himself of the chills that were running through him and making him tremble. His clothes were a welcome warmth, even over still damp skin. He could feel everything in his new state of sensitivity, from the trickle of water escaping his hair and sliding down his back to the cold of the tiles against his bare feet. He took a deep breath and left the towel on the side of the bath, rolling his shoulders against the fabric of the now slightly damp t-shirt. The scars on his shoulders hurt still, causing a painful stiffness that he wished he could just patch up, but he pushed it aside and opened the bathroom door.

   Dean was sat alone on Sam’s laptop, eyebrows knitted together slightly in concentration as he used the small touchpad to control the thing. He did not look up as Castiel entered the room again, but he soon spoke. “So, Cas,” he started quietly, finally lifted his stony gaze from the screen, the light from the computer illuminating his face. “Want to start telling me how you ended up as an angel chew toy?” Castiel had no idea what was on that computer screen, but whatever it was seemed to have bothered Dean. He opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again to think, sinking down on the other bed and staring down at his hands. He had actually been wondering why Dean had not pressed the matter sooner. “Cas? Last I heard you were back in with the crew up there, so why did they decide to suddenly try to rip your wings off?” Castiel shivered at the thought, feeling it pass from his body and into his now invisible wings. They were still tender from the memory of what had violated them.

   “I… disagreed with them,” he said quietly, watching as a droplet of water left his hair and landed on the worn carpet at his feet. He had to tell Dean, had to inform him of what was happening. He felt well enough now to relive the events of the previous months, well enough to be honest to the only family he had left. “I will tell you the full story when Sam is here also,” he says softly, glancing towards the door.

   “Alright,” Dean said slowly, closing the laptop. “He went out to get breakfast before we go and check on that demon hideout, make sure they’re not loitering around. But here’s the thing, Cas, demons are everywhere again.” Dean was met with an uncomfortable silence, the angel staring at the floor as if he were about to burn a hole through it. He had almost forgotten about that. Days had turned into months up in Heaven, and he had forgotten why it had all started in the first place. “I was hoping you might be able to shed a light on why Hell is suddenly all over the place, and not even hiding.” Again there was more silence, and a click from Dean’s fingers made Castiel jerk his head up to look at him. “And tell me what happened to you, too.” Faced with those demanding green eyes, Castiel felt himself crumble inside. He did not want to recall the events that had befallen him, and yet he knew he had to.

   “I will explain the demons when Sam gets here,” he says insistently, looking back to the floor. It falls silent for a moment. Not only does he want Sam there to prevent him from repeating himself, but he would also feel a little safer having Sam there to be a buffer against what is surely going to be outrage from Dean.

   “And about what happened to you?” Dean’s prompt was gentle but firm, and Castiel decided it was better to tell him personally here, in a room alone, than have it forced out of him in front of Sam as well.

   “They captured me when I returned to heaven,” he began slowly, clasping his hands together to stop the shaking. This spell of humanity would be the death of him. He did not want to tell Dean why they captured him, why they attempted to extract the information from him. “They bound me to a rack that I could not escape, a creation of an archangel, above my paygrade as you might say.” The bruises on his wrists were still there, faded but a slightly painful reminder of the restraints. “After everything I saw when I dragged you from Hell, I thought I would never see anything so terrible again, let alone be subject to it. My… interrogator was an angel I had never seen before, but I knew of him. He is known for being truly terrible, and now I see why. He… he stripped my skin away only to replace it and repeat, but I would not speak. He tried to get me to speak for years in heaven, and I thought I grew used to the pain. I thought I could handle it until… until one day I was face down on the rack. Dean, I…” He trailed off and closed his eyes, the throbbing in his back even more prominent. He could feel eyes upon him, but there was no movement, no words. He took a deep breath and continued. “I have never known such an agony. Of all the assaults to my grace, this was the worst by far. He started by ripping out my feathers, but then he took the blade to the wings themselves. They were constrained and strapped down and he cut at my shoulders and I knew nothing but pain. I… I was sure that I was finished, but I still would not speak. I could not speak. I almost lost one wing before I was saved.” Silence fell once more, but this time Dean did shift, leaning a little closer across the gap between the beds.

   “Who saved you?” Castiel shook his head slowly. He had felt a great presence in that chamber, an overwhelming power, but he had no idea who had saved him.

   “I was expelled from the room and cast back down to Earth, but the angels were right behind me. I did the first thing that came to mind and jumped through time, as I could not fly. The experience… it… it left me like this. I can feel my grace is still there but… but I fear it might not survive.” The room was a deafening in its silence as Castiel finished, his mind numb from recalling the events. Dean was silent, taking in the news. Castiel’s grace was diminished and weak, and the angel was so very human right then. “Dean, I would prefer that… what I told you-“

   “Don’t worry, Cas,” he cut in, straightening up from his bed. “I won’t say anything.” About on cue, a key entered the lock on the door and the door opened to Sam carrying two cups of coffee and a bag of food. Dean took the bag from him and rooted around for his breakfast, coming out triumphant with a sandwich that appeared to contain bacon and various other breakfast foods, all contained within bread. He sat down beside Castiel and looked over at Sam. “I believe Cas here is about to tell us exactly what the hell is happening, right, Cas?” He cast a glance to the angel beside him as he took a bite out of his sandwich, grinning in his own special way. Castiel stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He had expected maybe a conversation beforehand, as humans often did, pointlessly. He closed his mouth again and nodded silently, rising from the bed and letting his toes curl against the threadbare carpet.

   “Yes, I shall explain as much as I know,” he sighed, watching Sam sit and reopen his laptop. Just a few months ago, Sam had been dead. He had jumped into the cage with Michael and Lucifer and they had thought that was the end. And then, all of a sudden, he was back. He had no recollection of what had pulled him from the cage, he was just back. Castiel had no idea what had returned him to Earth, or why, but he was starting to think it was all part of the plan. He looked back to Dean and then looked to the floor. It was best to get this over with quickly. “From what Dean told me, I can guess that it is already beginning. The angels… _Raphael_ , I should say, is trying to restart the Apocalypse.” There was no point avoiding the topic. He knew the Winchesters well enough that they could handle this truth in the barest of forms, or at least that was what he hoped. Dean raises an eyebrow, swallowing the large mouthful of sandwich he had been chewing and staring at Castiel as if he had grown another head. Sam merely frowns and looks at whatever is on his laptop screen for a moment longer before looking back up to Castiel, an unreadable expression on his face.

   “But… how?” Sam was perplexed, understandably. “We put Lucifer and Michael into the cage, we locked them down there. How can it all be restarted?”

   “There are ways… there are always ways. Luckily Raphael still doesn’t know exactly what to do, but it won’t be long before he finds someone who does. He is… trying to gain information from any source.” Again the wounds on his back throb painfully, and his gaze lowers to the floor. It is Dean that speaks this time, his sandwich laid to one side as he rocks forwards with his elbows on his thighs.

   “What information does he want? What did they want from you?” His voice is stern and edged with something akin to anger, and Castiel glares a warning at him, but the expression on Dean’s face tells him that he will not say any more than that, and for that he is grateful. For one’s grace to be abused in such a way is an embarrassment, and he would rather keep the whole ordeal to himself.

   “They wished to know your location. Of course I could not tell them, but I also refused to lead them to you. I only returned once I knew they were no longer following.” Dean nodded in understanding and his sandwich lay forgotten as he ran a hand through his hair and looked to the floor. Castiel could not judge how this was going down, Dean’s mind unknown to him in his current mortal state.

   “Alright, so that I get,” he said quietly before motioning towards Sam’s laptop. “But what about the demons? What have they got to do with this?” Castiel shook his head and paced the room slowly, face drawn into a frown.

   “A distraction, I believe. I am guessing it is general chaos?” Sam nodded his head, scrolling through pages on his laptop as he eats his much healthier breakfast absent-mindedly. “I doubt any of the events are of import, but I shall check.” The brothers nodded and then everything fell silent again for many minutes until Dean spoke once more, that edge of anger on his voice.

   “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Castiel frowned and looked to Dean, turning his body to face him.

   “You did not ask.”

   “I asked what happened to you, and you didn’t think this was a pretty big part of what happened?” Castiel found words lost to him. He should have said sooner, but he had never thought. He had been in such pain, suffering from such exhaustion, full of so much worry for the Winchesters that he had actually forgotten about the Apocalypse that was being put back on track.

   “I… I forgot, I suppose,” he said quietly, but the look in Dean’s eyes was not acceptance. He had seen it many times before, a look of distrust. Castiel bowed his head and a long breath escaped him, a breath that he did not realise he had been holding in. “You called for help, and I fought through time to return… Dean I… after all those years, I forgot why I was even there,” it was a terrible realisation. He had been made aware of the plans before he was put on the rack, but for the years he was tortured he was only asked again and again where the Winchesters were. The Apocalypse was a distant memory, a blur in the past, against the building worry for Sam and Dean’s safety. The look on Dean’s face when Castiel finally lifted his gaze again was different, softer. It was a look of understanding, and Castiel felt his shoulders relax. Sam was looking puzzled at the words, a little cautious, but he returned to his research once more. Dean did not say a word as he straightened and picked up his sandwich. He eyed it for a long moment before drawing his hand back and launching it across the room. Castiel watched it sail past him before it hit the wall behind his head, eyes following the yellow goo of the egg yolk as it started to drip down the wall, the rest of the sandwich holding on impressively to the vertical surface. He slid his eyes back to Dean, who moved his eyes from the offending sandwich and back to Castiel, something seething beneath that gaze that the angel wished he could read.

   “So.” The sandwich fell to the floor with a wet noise as Dean stepped a little closer to Castiel, hands making some gesture in front of him. “What do they need to restart this thing?” He appeared calm, but Castiel was wary. The anger did not appear to be directed at him, but with none of his natural power he felt incredibly small next to the larger hunter. He let his eyes slip from the man in front of him to his brother sat on the bed, and Dean followed his gaze before turning back to the angel. “Sam? They need Sam?” Of course they needed Sam, he was Lucifer’s vessel. However, there was one thing the angels did not need, and that was Dean. Castiel managed a nod, but bit his tongue to stop the truth from escaping him. He had been the bearer of enough bad news today. “Well that’s just fantastic,” Dean said quietly as he picked his duffel bag up and dropped it on the bed angrily. “Pack up, Sammy, we’re going to Bobby’s.”

   “Hold on, Dean,” Sam was standing now, rounding the bed to square up to his brother. Castiel felt like sinking back into the shadows but had no idea why. He knew these two men well, and yet he suddenly felt something odd within him that made him simply want to disappear. “We can’t go to Bobby’s. They’ll know we’ll do exactly that.” Dean’s eyes narrowed and he left the bag on the bed, straightening up to face Sam.

   “Exactly, so they don’t think we’ll do it. Sam, that’s the safest place on this damn planet right now. The more we wander around, the more likely they are to find us. Hell, those demons from yesterday have probably already spread the word!” His voice was rising and his eyes were cold and dark and Castiel wanted the ground to swallow him up. The morning had started so well, he should have known it would not last long. Sam was taking the news that the demons wanted him alive very well, but then he had already been in that situation. This was nothing new to the Winchesters, just the same old pile of-

   A phone ringing cut every thought and conversation short, and the ringtone immediately revealed it to be Dean’s phone. He fished it out of his pocket and eyed the number briefly before flipping it open. “Hey, Bobby.” He gestured to the duffel bag and gave Sam a meaningful look, and the taller brother scowled once more before retrieving his own bag and starting to pack. Castiel still stood silently, knowing he would have vanished ten minutes ago if he could have.

   “You two need to get your asses over here now. You’ve got a friend and he _will not_ go away.” The irritation in Bobby’s voice is clear and Dean hears a light cackle in the background.

   “Who is that?” Dean frowned and used his free hand to shove clothes into his bag.

   “Just get here. If I see one more chocolate sundae I’m gonna take a shotgun to his head whether it kills him or not.” The line goes dead and he stares at the phone for a minute, one eyebrow raised.

   “Bobby’s it is,” he mused quietly, pushing the phone away into his pocket and looking across at Sam. “Someone’s waiting for us, and I have a good idea who.” Sam throws him a questioning look but Dean’s already turning towards Castiel. “You coming with us?” It takes the angel a moment to realise he is being addressed, his eyes focused on Dean but not really watching. He snaps out of it and furrows his brow, managing a small nod.

   “If possible. I feel I am of little use wandering the streets alone with no transportation.” It was true. Without Sam or Dean he was stuck to walk everywhere, with no other way to get around. His wings were painful and any attempt to ‘zap’ anywhere would result in his location being revealed. He had to be careful with his energy, make sure to do nothing that would attract any attention. As much as he would like to think the Winchesters were in his care, at this very moment in time he is very aware that without them he would be completely and utterly stuck.

   “Alright then,” he returns to his duffel bag and zips it up before throwing it over his shoulder. “Let’s hit the road, Bobby’s is only a few hours away.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cats sat idly all over the front porch, a few scattered around the nearby scrapped cars, and they appeared to be multiplying. It was like Trouble With Tribbles all over again...

The drive to Bobby’s is six hours long, and Castiel feels confined in the back of the Impala. He fidgets for a long time until Dean snaps at him to stop it, and then he finally settles to watch the scenery pass by, head leaning on the cool glass of the window. He never liked cars. They took too long and were messy things, not to mention noisy and very dangerous to humans. However he could see some appeal to travelling this way now, the slow rocking of the vehicle around him paired with the gentle rumble of the engine, which was barely audible due to Dean’s music, setting him at ease. The coldness of the glass was nice and refreshing, despite it being a chilly October afternoon outside, and he soon found himself closing his eyes and sighing contentedly, breath steaming up the window. The brothers were silent for most of the journey, but Castiel was somewhat grateful for that. He did not feel like talking any more. He felt bad enough for forgetting about the plans of the angels for his own selfish reasons. He had meant to tell Dean as soon as he had returned to the human, but then Dean had insisted on cleaning him up, on tending to his wounds, and it had all been forgotten. All he could remember was the pain, and all he wanted was the relief, and he had willingly forgotten everything in his exhaustion. After four hours, Dean’s phone rang again. He growled something under his breath as he checked the caller ID and then handed the phone over to Sam. The younger brother rolled his eyes and pressed the phone to his ear, looking back out of his window. “Hey Bobby,” he sighed, and Castiel can hear the slight commotion on the other end of the phone before the old hunter’s exasperated voice replies.

   “How far away are you? He got bored and conjured thirty cats. I just found one in my damn boot.” Sam bites back a laugh, Castiel can see it by the way he clenches his jaw and smirks across at Dean.

   “Just a couple of hours Bobby. Who is it, anyway?” Sam was curious. Dean had guessed their old trickster friend from the mention of chocolate sundaes, and Sam was suspecting it too, although he was not quite sure how it was possible. The last they had seen of him was his suicide note after he had faced down Lucifer, however Gabriel was the ultimate trickster and Dean had pointed out that it was very possible he had tricked his brother and escaped the scene. Why they had heard nothing of him since if he had been alive was still puzzling.

   “He says he’s an old friend. And- put that down!” Even Dean hears the shout from the other end of the phone, sniggering quietly and relaxing back against his seat. “I will shoot you again, you idjit!” Even Castiel has to smile at the outburst, especially as Dean laughs louder.

   “Alright Bobby, we’ll be there soon, promise. Want me to have a word with him? Tell him to leave your stuff alone?” There was a loud bang over the phone and Sam held it away from his ear in surprise. “Bobby, what was that?” There was laughter on the other end and a lot of cursing from Bobby.

   “I will shoot him until he shuts the hell up,” growled the hunter, and Sam simply grinned and muttered a goodbye over the phone before closing it and handing it back to Dean, a chuckle escaping him.

   “Yeah, I think you were right. That’s definitely Gabriel,” Sam’s voice was lighter than it had been all day, amusement spreading across his face, but his voice was filled with contemplation. “Apparently Bobby’s overrun with cats now as well as ice cream.” Dean laughed again and shook his head.

   “Well, I guess the guy is kinda amusing when he’s not pulling that crap on us.” Dean paused for a moment, a frown crossing his face. “But I still don’t get how he’s alive.”

~*~

When they pulled up in front of Bobby’s house, the evidence that Gabriel was around was clear. Cats sat idly all over the front porch, a few scattered around the nearby scrapped cars, and they appeared to be multiplying. It was like Trouble With Tribbles all over again, and Dean raised an eyebrow as he killed the engine of the Impala only to have a cat promptly climb on the warm hood and curl up to sleep. Dean stared at it in disbelief before climbing out of the car. By the time he had pushed the door closed, two more cats had appeared seemingly from nowhere and had proceeded to make themselves comfortable on the warmth of the metal. As Dean tried to shoo them, more appeared, and he was fighting a losing battle as more and more popped up. “Godammit, Gabriel!”

   “Now, don’t use my father’s name in vain,” drawled a voice behind him, and Dean spun to come face to face with the smug grin of Gabriel. He was as short as ever, and as arrogant as ever, and his jokes have already started to wear thin on Dean’s patience.

   “Fuck you. Get those things off my car,” he spoke in a low and threatening tone and Gabriel merely lifted an eyebrow before looking behind Dean at the car covered in content cats.

   “But they enjoy it so much,” he pouted, rolling his gaze back to Dean. “I’ll make it so they don’t scratch.” He grinned and Dean felt the anger boil up inside him, eyes narrowing dangerously.

   “Get those things off my car, or I swear to God I will tear you a whole new one.”

   “Big threats, small fry,” Gabriel taunted, eyes moving from Dean to where Sam and Castiel are stood some distance away. “Hello boys, how good of you to stop by. Please, do come in.” As quickly as Gabriel vanishes, so do the cats, leaving Dean, Sam and Castiel stood in silence in the chilled air, staring at a blank space.

   “Son of a bitch,” Dean growled under his breath, stalking towards Bobby’s front door with the other two trailing behind him slowly.

   Bobby’s house was just as Castiel remembered it, dusty and full of books and information, yet also somewhat comfortable and welcoming. As they entered, there was cursing from the library and the small group headed quickly in that direction. Gabriel was sprawled on the couch, having clearly just appeared there, and Bobby was stood beside him, his face reddened with a certain fury. “I told you, stop appearin’ like that, especially when I’m working,” Bobby snarled, stalking back to his desk with a book in hand and sitting down heavily. Dean watched the man move before turning his gaze back to the now upright Gabriel who was stood before them. He was about to throw an insult, his mouth open and ready, when something caught his eye. Rather, it was many things. Fanning out behind Gabriel, caught in the sunlight from the window, he was sure he could make out wings, but they shimmered and faltered in his vision, as if they were merely dust caught in the sunlight, golden in colour. Gabriel raised an eyebrow as Dean brought his attention back to his face, and then there was a shimmer as he stretched out what must have been three pairs of wings. A smirk came across the archangel’s face as Dean’s eyes widened further and he clapped his hands loudly.

   “Fascinating!” His gaze moved to Castiel who shifted awkwardly beneath that hard stare, disappearing behind Dean slightly. “Very fascinating.”

   “What are you doing here, Gabriel?” Dean started quietly, moving around the archangel with Castiel right behind him. As he sat on the sofa he glanced up to see Castiel standing uneasily beside him, and he could see the shadow of his wings tense and shuddering behind him. He was starting to notice them now, out of the corner of his eye or just absent-mindedly as a shadow against a surface, however faint. More to the point, and a very odd point, he could sense them. He knew Castiel’s wings were tense and taut, bundled up tightly but quivering from bone to feather tip. He did not dwindle on it, looking back to Gabriel as the angel rifled through Bobby’s papers idly, causing a series of huffs and protests from the old hunter.

   “I came to help,” he said simply, perching on the desk and drawing more vivid language from Bobby. “I figured you’d need it, and it’s not like I have better things to be doing. Demons are only fun to play with for so long, but they’re not endless entertainment like humans. Like you guys.” He emphasised his point unnecessarily by pointing a finger to both Sam and Dean.

   “Ass,” Dean ground out, looking back up to Castiel. “Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous.” Castiel nodded and followed the order quickly, falling onto the sofa beside Dean and folding his hands on his lap, gaze fixing on Dean for a moment before sliding over to Gabriel. His brother was watching him with an amused expression. Dean would argue that was the damn archangels permanent expression, but Castiel knew better. He suddenly wished he had restrained himself and removed his wings from Dean’s grasp, instead of falling right into it. Now Dean was tuned into that plane the wings were hidden on, he could sense them, and that could offend many angels. Humans were considered base creatures by a lot of his brothers and sisters, and the thought of those filthy hands touching heavenly wings would cause an outrage.

   “But seriously, Gabriel,” it was Sam who spoke then, leaning against the wall framing the entrance to the kitchen, hands casually in his pockets. “ _How_ are you here?” That amused expression faltered, if only for a second, on Gabriel’s face and he was suddenly on his feet again.

   “You forget who you’re talking to,” he said quietly, something flashing behind his eyes that suggested his grin was a mask. Castiel could see it, and shifted uncomfortably beside Dean. He felt eyes upon him and looked at Dean, meeting a concerned green gaze. Dean could sense it too, Castiel knew that then. Gabriel was not himself. “After my little spat with big brother, I found myself back in Heaven,” Gabriel continued loudly, arms spread out as if to show he was all there. “It appears Daddy doesn’t think I’m finished.” Suddenly Castiel was on his feet, rounding on Gabriel. Dean found himself standing too, but he was not sure why. The younger angel seemed furious all of a sudden, enough so that even Gabriel took a step back.

   “Did they follow you?” The growl in Castiel’s voice sent a shiver down Dean’s spine, and Gabriel’s jaw hung open slightly as he looked from the small angel in front of him to the two Winchesters and then back again. “Did Raphael know you were here?” Castiel’s voice had risen and Dean saw his wings stretch wide, fanning out vastly behind his back.

   “Of course not, you fool!” Gabriel’s rage matched his younger brother’s, and suddenly he seemed so much bigger than ever before, eyes flashing golden. “I got to Heaven, and that bastard tries to pull me into his silly little scheme. He thought Camael could brainwash me,” his words came out with a dark laugh, and suddenly everything in the room felt just as dark. “They have no idea where I am; or rather they think I’m in Shanghai.” Just as quickly as things had darkened, the light returned to the room, sun filtering in through the dusty window and illuminating the small library. Gabriel’s gaze softened and he placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. The flinch from his little brother made him grimace, and he pulled away to sit back on the desk, receiving no protest this time. “I really am sorry, brother. I tried to get to you sooner. If I had known, I would have tried harder.” So it was Gabriel who had expelled him from the torture chamber. Castiel had known he had felt a very powerful presence, something to equal if not overwhelm the power of his tormenter. He had been flung to Earth with such a force he had been reeling, and his first instinct had been to flee further, he had not hesitated to consider it further.

   “I am still grateful, I apologise for my outburst.” Castiel sank back onto the sofa, wings trembling and head bowed. Dean sat beside him, one hand instinctively finding the angel’s shoulder and squeezing lightly.

   “It’s understandable, I suppose,” Gabriel said quietly, a chocolate bar suddenly in his hand. “Don’t worry, I’m your ‘friend’ in all this. I thought you boys had finished it all once and for all, but it appears our brothers are more persistent than we thought.” It all went silent as Gabriel grinned and started on his chocolate, and Castiel finally relaxed a little, pushing his grace back down where it had threatened to rise up and fight. He was not so good at hiding himself from Heaven currently, and any use of his power could lead Raphael straight to their door. He suddenly felt very tired again and pushed his face into his hands, fingers tangling in the dark mess of hair on his head. He just wanted to sleep. Dean’s hand was still on his shoulder, firm and supportive, and he was grateful.

~*~

The evening air was chilled and for once Castiel noticed it as he stood on Bobby’s porch, gazing up at the full moon that was rising. His breath came out in clouds and the tips of his fingers were going numb, but he felt so confined inside the house. An angel was never designed to walk the Earth as a human, it made him incredibly uncomfortable. The two brothers were working with Bobby to track down some demon omens so they could capture and interrogate, but Castiel was not concerned. He knew the demons knew of the plan, but they were merely a distraction. Demons were not capable of undertaking the tasks that needed to be done to restart the whole mess that was the Apocalypse. He was suddenly aware of a presence beside him, a powerful warmth radiating from a small body that was thrown against the wall of the house casually. He turned his head to see Gabriel sucking on some bright red candy, eyebrows raised a little towards his younger brother. “You know, I should be really offended,” he said quietly, the item in his hand disappearing as he straightened up and moved to stand right beside Castiel. “It’s been a few millennia since a human gazed upon my wings with such ease. I wonder how he got so close to that veil.” His voice was not loud enough to be heard by anyone but Castiel, who turned his gaze back up to the sky.

   “I was too weak,” he said quietly, a sigh puffing out in a plume of mist. He did not want to mention how much he had enjoyed the grooming, and how much he would like to repeat it. “I apologise… again.” Gabriel laughed and rocked on his feet and Castiel could feel his powerful grace pulsing with a certain amusement. Gabriel was radiating so much power he wondered how Raphael had no already appeared before them, but then he realised that it was probably the power that was keeping them hidden. The archangel was a powerful manipulator, and much more creative than his older brothers, Raphael would not see past any shield that may be in place.

   “Baby brother, what you do in your spare time is none of my business, just stop your boyfriend staring at other angel’s wings.” Castiel looked back to Gabriel, a frown crossing his face.

   “He’s not-“

   “Oh whatever.” Gabriel cut off any protests, glancing to the house as his name was called. “That’d be me,” he said brightly before vanishing. The frown remained upon Castiel’s face and he glanced to the sky once more before returning to the warmth of the house, and it really was warm. Apparently Gabriel did not enjoy the cold, and his energy was heating the entire house from floor to roof. In this infuriating human form, Castiel found himself shrugging off his coat and jacket as he entered the library once more, relieved as he felt lost constricted in the warmth. Dean raised an eyebrow as he cast the clothes over the back of the sofa and sat down, eyes wandering over to where Gabriel was reading over Sam’s shoulder, the light of the laptop illuminating both their faces. Dean returned to the book that was opened on his lap without saying a word. It was not like Dean’s usual reading material, but Castiel could see words about Lucifer and the Apocalypse accompanied by various depictions of the events.

   “Gabriel, you’re making me sweat,” Sam grumbled lightly, brow furrowing in concentration.

   “Sorry, gigantor, I didn’t know I had such an effect on you,” the archangel said smugly, straightening up and suddenly appearing beside Castiel, perched on the arm of the sofa.

   “Dude, you’re like a walking radiator. Anyway, what do you think?” Sam sat back from the laptop, looking over from where he was sat in the corner on a sofa that had most certainly not been there when they had arrived.

   “I think you need to control yourself,” Gabriel growled playfully, rocking back to lean on the back of the sofa, radiating his heat onto Castiel instead. A glare from Sam made him grin wider and he waved one hand in the air to dismiss his comment. “Nah, it’s nothing important, they’re just chasing down ghosts.” Castiel guessed they were talking about demons, and leaned a little further away from the heat of Gabriel, his shoulder brushing against Dean.

   “Cas, personal space,” Dean muttered, giving him a gentle nudge with his elbow. All Castiel could do was stand from the constricting space on the sofa and pace towards Bobby’s desk slowly. Gabriel fell down into the newly occupied space, now chewing on something unknown but no doubt very sugary. Castiel cast his gaze back over to the sofa, receiving a wriggle of the eyebrows from Gabriel as he leaned over to look at the book Dean was reading. “Same goes to you,” Dean grumbled, forcibly pushing Gabriel away with a hand against his shoulder. He allowed himself to be pushed, grin merely broadening as he lounged back against the arm of the sofa. Castiel lifted one of the random scattered papers from the desk and scanned it, but it was merely some old lore they already knew about the Apocalypse. “Well, I don’t think we’re getting anywhere. I say we check out that deal in Hutchinson tomorrow, see if we can tie down one of those bastards and get some info,” Dean said as he stretched out, arms reaching above his head for a few moments before dropping back down to close the book and toss it on a pile that had accumulated on the floor. Sam nodded and closed his laptop, placing it to one side before straightening up.

   “That’s all well and good,” Bobby piped up from where he was sat. “But I ain’t got enough beds for all of ya if your angel buddies are staying over.” Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes, lounging out over the sofa as Dean stood.

   “I don’t sleep,” he said quietly, flexing rather like a cat as he settled on the item of furniture. Castiel was almost dead on his feet, propped up against the door frame to the hallway and not saying a word. He was tired, an unusual experience for him. A spasm in his jaw muscles startled him as his mouth opened into a yawn. To say he looked startled as his mouth snapped shut was an understatement. Gabriel was chuckling away to himself, that amused glint in his eyes, and Dean had a smirk on his face. “Apparently baby bro does, though.” Sam smiled and pushed his laptop from the sofa that had appeared earlier that day before flopping back down onto it. It was large and soft and easily took his huge frame.

   “I’ll take this one, no worries. Looks like Cas could do with a comfortable night,” Sam yawned, sending the contagious spasm over to Dean, who covered his mouth before waving a hand at Sam. He always shared the room upstairs with Sam when they were not crashing on the sofa and floor downstairs, but he guessed he could share a room with Castiel.

   “Alright, sure, whatever, I think I could sleep on a floor and not care,” he murmured before grunting his good nights and beckoning Castiel to follow him upstairs. The angel was on his heels, taking the stairs heavily and a little clumsily and nearly tripping up a few times. He had not realised just how tired he was until people had started talking about actually sleeping. The warmth of the house and the general comfortable air was just making him all the more sleepy. Dean pushed the door to the twin room open and shed the shirt he had over his t-shirt, tossing it idly on the floor near one of the beds. Castiel was too tired for awkwardness, falling back onto the nearest bed and closing his eyes. Somehow it felt good to be horizontal, and he understood in that moment why humans loved to sleep so much. “Not so fast, Cas,” Dean’s voice floated into his consciousness and he opened his heavy eyes to look up at Dean, who was stood over the bed rubbing a hand over his face. “I wanna check your wings first.” Castiel frowned, perfectly comfortable where he was and completely unwilling to move.

   “Why?” The aching in his shoulders reminded him exactly why, but he tried not to cringe as he stared up at the man. Dean placed one hand on his hip and motioned to Castiel’s t-shirt that he had borrowed.

   “Because I won’t sleep tonight unless I check. So take your shirt off.” Dean never thought in his life he would be demanding another man to take his shirt off, but then he guessed Castiel was not really a man. The angel would see no rude sub-context in removing his clothes, and sure enough, despite a tired groan, he pushed himself up and removed his shirt.

   “I’m still going to lie down,” he grumbled, crawling up the bed and laying on his stomach, face buried in the pillow. He just wanted to sleep, but he did not want to be the reason Dean lost any sleep that night.

   “You’re such a child when you’re tired,” Dean grumbled as he perched on the bed beside Castiel and rested his hands on his shoulders. An age seemed to pass before Dean slid his fingers down to come into contact with his shoulder blades, and the wings slipped out of their invisible plane to appear before him. They were looking healthier, shimmering gently in the moonlight from the window, stretched out lazily to either side. Castiel sighed and let his wings drop down, relaxed against his back. He certainly did not have the energy to hold them up for Dean. He heard Dean mutter something about laziness before he felt a warm, firm hand on his wing and felt the feathers being stretched out gently. The soft touches that searched through his fluffier plumage made his flight feathers shiver gently, along with the rest of his body, but Castiel was too far gone to care. Each touch only made him drowsier but he fought to stay awake, a soft moan of protest or contentment escaping him as Dean ran a finger gently over a recovering flight feather. There was no apology this time, and he did not remove his hands hastily, instead moving onto the next feather. Castiel could certainly get used to this type of grooming, the soothing strokes of Dean’s fingers as they went down to the tip of each feather sending a deep warmth throughout him. Each feather was sensitive, but the only response he could muster was to moan now and then or grumble something into the pillow. Dean ignored him until he was almost finished on the second wing, and his fingers dug deeper into the soft feathers, coming into contact with the boned structure. Castiel’s eyes suddenly snapped open and a visible shudder ran through his body and up through his wings, the feathers rustling with the movement. Dean could not help but smile, sliding his hand a little further along the structure to settle his mind. He had thought he had felt something stuck in the feathers, but it had just been the way they had been resting. He smoothed them out with gentle fingers, and then he was finished. As the warm touch left his wings, Castiel’s body protested in an unusual way. He felt cold and as if something were missing, something deep down that he could not quite place. He folded one wing in so he could roll onto his back, looking up at Dean’s face through the moonlit darkness.

   “Satisfied?” he grumbled, stretching the wing back out again slightly. He barely had the energy to push them back into their metaphorical state and so for now he had to deal with laying on them. Dean nodded and stood up from the bed before pulling off his own shirt.

   “Yeah, you’re good. Looks like you’ve nearly got all your feathers back, not that I know anything about how many you’re meant to have.” He threw himself down onto his own bed, not bothering to remove his jeans. Everything was warm and comfortable and he was tired, ready to sleep off a day of driving and research, and a few glasses of whiskey.

   “I said they would heal,” Castiel said sleepily as he finally felt his wings disappear and he could lay flat onto the bed. His eyes shut of their own accord and he found himself yawning again. He was not as startled this time, but he was still confused by the action. “Why does that keep happening?” he murmured, brow furrowing. Dean rolled his head to look over at the angel, grinning into the darkness.

   “Cause you’re tired, idiot, now sleep.” Everything fell silent then, and Castiel soon found himself drifting to sleep. He was still recovering from his ordeal in Heaven and his multiple time jumps, although he could feel the faint pulse of his grace getting stronger. He hoped it would return soon so he could be of some use to the brothers and their cause.

   Dean was not so lucky in sleep, wide awake when it finally came to the task of closing his eyes and drifting away. Those bastards wanted Sam again, to shove the Devil down his throat and make him into a puppet. The thought made him sick, only made worse by the knowledge that Sam could end up back in that cage again and not get out this time. He had been relatively lucky before, appearing at his graveside just a day after he fell into the pit with little memory of what had happened, but the nightmares had quickly reminded him of what Lucifer had done in such a short amount of time. He was better now, despite the odd fitful night, and Dean was glad. It seemed like it could all just come back again, however, and that really pissed Dean off. He finally managed to fall to sleep as midnight rolled by, but his dreams reflected his worries, twisted and burning and a vivid reminder of his own time in Hell. He called out to Castiel again and again, but nothing came, no one came. Somehow in his subconscious he knew the angel was close, so close he could touch him, but there was nothing. He started to scream as he watched Sam fall into the pit again, and it felt like his chest was being ripped apart from the inside.

   Suddenly he felt like he was being pulled upwards towards the sky, as if he were being dragged out of a river, and he gasped for air as his eyes flew open. It took him a few wild moments before he focused on the sleepy pair of blue eyes in front of him, Castiel crouched at the side of his bed. The moonlight illuminated the exhaustion in his face, and Dean felt a pang of guilt at the sight. The angel needed sleep and here he was waking up in a cold sweat and most likely screaming. “Cas,” he choked out, eyes still wide and breathing heavy. The angel nodded, a tight expression on his face.

   “You were dreaming,” he said quietly, sitting back on his heels. “I am sorry I was of no use.” There had been times when he had pulled Dean out of his dreams mentally, sending him into a deeper sleep, or actually appeared in his dreams to fight away the evil, but here he was useless. Dean shook his head and settled down against the bed again, trying to calm his heart rate.

   “No, Cas, it’s okay. I’m sorry for waking you.” He offered his best smile and rubbed a hand through his hair as Castiel stood and padded back over his bed. “Hey, Cas,” Dean’s voice was quiet and tired, but the angel heard him none the less.

   “Yes, Dean,” he muttered as he climbed under the covers, the house having cooled off somewhat.

   “Do you think we can do it again?”

   “Do what?” Castiel was genuinely confused in his sleep-addled state, his mind immediately jumping to the wing grooming that had occurred a few hours ago. If that was the thing that had to be done again, he was certainly willing to say yes.

   “Stop the Apocalypse.” He had to admit his heart dropped somewhat, although he was not sure why. On the matter of the Apocalypse, he was not sure of the answer. He did not know how the angels would even bring Lucifer back from the cage, and so he had no idea whether or not they could stop it. He knew that a no or a not sure were not what Dean wanted to hear, and in an effort to prevent another screaming nightmare, Castiel lied.

   “Yes,” he said simply, pulling the sheets further up over his shoulders and curling up into the warmth of the bed. Dean was still sprawled out on top of his bed on his stomach, and Castiel could see his slightly damp skin glowing in the moonlight, the curve of his spine down from his shoulder blades towards the waistline of his jeans. Castiel was not sure why his eyes followed that line again and again, but they did and Dean was the last thing he saw as his eyes slid shut again and he let out a long breath as he fell back into slumber. Neither of them woke again until morning, when a loud bang echoed through the whole house.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Dean could do was grin as he saw the flare of tan behind him. He relished the look of puzzlement on its face and then the look of horror as a knife sank into its neck. It fell to the floor with a thud and there was Castiel, already turning to face the remaining demons.

Dean nearly slipped and fell four times as he lurched out of bed and sprinted down the stairs. It was a gunshot, he knew it was a gunshot. His heart was in his mouth as he slid from the bottom of the stairs to the living room that was also Bobby’s library, and his eyes landed on a sight that both confused him and made his blood turn to ice. Gabriel was holding down a squirming Sam, blood dripping from a wound in his head that was already healing rapidly as he held Sam’s shoulders. “Gabriel!” Dean gasped as Castiel appeared at his side, eyes a little wild and hair even wilder. “What the fuck happened?” Gabriel lifted his eyes to Dean, sparing a hand to wipe the blood that was creeping into his eye.

   “I was just… walking,” he breathed, looking back to the younger hunter who was writhing in agony. “Then suddenly there’s a bullet in my brain and he’s just throwing himself at me.” The archangel seemed genuinely shocked, something that sent Dean’s blood running cold. “Sammy,” his voice was a low growl but soft as he put both hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Sammy you’re fine, you’re fine, just… oh fuck it.” Gabriel rolled his eyes slightly before pressing a hand to Sam’s forehead and ceasing his movements. Sam fell flat back against the sofa, head lolling to one side, and Gabriel’s long exhale was audible in the now silent room. Bobby was suddenly in the room as well, rifle in hand as he took in the scene before him. Castiel stepped forwards to check on Sam, feeling his now slowing pulse and steady heart rate, and Dean was at his side in an instant, eyes wide with fear.

   “What the hell happened?” Bobby’s voice was tired and irritated as he lowered the arm that had been brandishing the gun and looked from Dean to Gabriel and then to Castiel. Dean turned his look of confusion onto Gabriel who frowned and shook his head, moving to sit up beside Sam and leaning over him.

   “I’m not sure. I think he may have been hallucinating.” He reached a hand forwards towards Sam’s head, but Dean’s hand flew out quickly to grab his wrist, face stern. “Don’t worry,” Gabriel said, exasperated. “I’m just going to see what’s happening in your bro’s little noggin.” Dean narrowed his eyes for a long moment before looking to Sam’s unconscious face and then nodding. Such an outburst had him scared. Sam never behaved in such a way, always the calm and collected one, always the one to wake him from his own dreams, not the one to wake up and shoot the nearest thing. Gabriel’s eyes had a soft glow of gold around the rims of his irises as he placed a hand back onto Sam’s forehead and focused, a frown of concentration coming onto his face as his eyes slipped shut. Things fell silent for a moment, and then suddenly Sam was writhing again. Ever in control, Gabriel pressed his free hand to Sam’s shoulder and held him steady. Hours seemed to pass of Sam squirming around and Gabriel grimacing now and then, and then suddenly the archangel leaped backwards, eyes flying open as Sam sat bolt upright, his own eyes wild. Dean went to put a hand to his brother’s shoulder but Sam flailed out towards him, smacking his hand away with force as he pressed himself against the sofa, seeing the people but not registering who they were.

   “Sammy, it’s us, it’s just us,” Dean managed to say past his confusion and fear, swallowing it all down and crouching beside the sofa before reaching out again. This time he managed to get a hand on Sam’s shoulder, and he felt every fibre of his brother tense up beneath his touch. “You’re okay, you’re safe, c’mon Sammy.” Sam stared at him as he tried to breathe through the panic, a hint of recognition finally flickering across his face.

   “D… Dean?” A frown came onto his face and he finally looked around at the other occupants of the room, eyes darting from Castiel to Gabriel to Bobby and then back to Dean. “Dean I was… I… I think I was in Hell… what happened?” Dean opened his mouth to say something but he could not, he had no answer for his little brother. He looked up at Gabriel, who had managed to regain some of his composure but was still staring at Sam with slightly widened eyes.

   “Hey, Gabriel, what happened?” Dean’s voice came out low and accusatory and Gabriel turned his gaze from Sam to Dean and then back again before moving to sit on the arm of the sofa, running a hand through his hair and managing a shrug.

   “I… I poked something, and then that happened.”

   “You _poked_ something? Dude, this is my brother’s brain you’re talking about.” Dean was quickly becoming livid, and Castiel felt helpless. There was a time not long ago he could have helped with all this, but all he could do for now was place a hand on Dean’s shoulder and look at him with as much reassurance as he could.

   “He was just looking into Sam’s thoughts, Dean, he did no harm.” Dean did not seem to hear his words, but his eyes met Castiel’s gaze and his jaw tightened slightly as he ground his teeth together for a moment. He held that gaze until he composed himself, and then he turned his attention back to Gabriel, who was staring at Sam again. Sam seemed unnerved by the unblinking gaze, pressing himself further into the sofa.

   “I think I should go,” Gabriel said abruptly, and then there was an empty space on the arm of the sofa and a gentle displacement of air.

   “Son of a bitch,” Dean growled under his breath before straightening up from the floor, looking down at Sam.

   “You okay, son?” Bobby said from his place by the door, propping his rifle up against the wall. Sam nodded and let out a deep breath, pushing himself up so he was sitting properly on the sofa, running a large hand over his eyes. Castiel was just as perplexed as the two brothers, and he was suddenly furious that he could not follow Gabriel and find out more information. The archangel knew something. “Cas, any bright ideas?” Castiel came out of his train of thoughts to find Dean’s bright green gaze upon him, and he frowned for a second before shaking his head.

   “Gabriel knows something, but if I were to follow him I would be revealed to Heaven. Sam, do you remember anything?” Castiel tore his gaze away from Dean to look at his younger brother. Sam was trembling slightly, his shirt sticking to his skin from the sweat he had built up, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. He shook his head slowly and let out a shuddering sigh.

   “No… I mean not really. I was in… this place, it was… horrible, and there was this thing standing over me, and all I could do was attack it, but it was too strong, and then there was this… this light… no… this energy.” Castiel’s confusion only grew at Sam’s words, and he turned his gaze to Dean again.

   “He was hallucinating… or dreaming. The energy will have been Gabriel.” Dean nodded and tangled a hand in his hair, face drawn and tired. Castiel wished he could be of more help, but it was hard to tell exactly what had happened. It sounded like an hallucination, like Sam had seen Gabriel as some creature and had shot him. He decided it was best not to press any further. They were dealing with Sam’s mind, and Castiel was starting to think he knew what the hallucination was about, and it was something they were certainly not equipped to deal with. “Dean, I think he should rest,” he said quietly, starting to move towards the door. Dean threw him a look of ‘no way am I leaving my brother after that’ but Castiel merely returned it with a gentle jerk of his head. He had to speak to Dean alone. Dean shifted uncomfortably and looked at his brother, offering a smile.

   “Just relax, I’ll be right outside.” Sam nodded and moved to lay back down, one hand pressed to his pounding head, and Bobby took up Dean’s place at his side. Castiel knew it could sometimes cause discomfort to have an angel study the human brain, and he could only imagine what it was like to have an archangel such as Gabriel perform the act. He walked out onto the front porch with Dean behind him, and the morning air was cool against his bare skin, making him grateful he had pulled on a shirt before running downstairs. Dean shut the door behind them and it was then that he let out the breath he had been holding, his shoulders sagging as he went to lean against the railing of the porch. He had been in more of a rush than Castiel and was still shirtless, but he barely seemed to register that.

   The sun was rising on the distant horizon, casting a golden pink hue across the world. It was silent, that moment between night and day where everything hushes and the air is clear. Castiel leaned on the railing beside Dean, watching as the sky gradually started to gain more colour, the first rays of sunlight caressing life out of the darkness. Castiel had never really stopped to watch a sunrise, at least not since he was born. He had always had a purpose, better things to be doing, and had always underestimated the feeling of just stopping, for a single moment, to enjoy something that was really quite spectacular. “What do you know, Cas?” Dean’s voice was quiet and distant, his eyes fixed out across the twisted metal that was the scrap yard. Castiel gazed at him for a minute before replying, careful with his words but honest.

   “Sam remembers something more of his time in the cage. Or at least, it is there in his mind. Whatever pulled him out also put up a wall in his mind, and I believe it is starting to crumble,” his voice was a murmur, a low rumble for such a small body. Dean turned his gaze to the angel beside him, seeming to process those words, tiredness painted across his face. The Winchesters would never have a break from all this, and nothing was ever as simple as defeating the bad guy.

   “I thought Sam remembered Hell,” Dean said quietly, but Castiel merely shook his head.

   “I always thought that if Sam truly remembered what had happened to him, he would never have recovered so quickly.”

   “What… what’ll happen when the wall comes down?” His voice was filled with genuine concern and the fear that had been present as soon as the gunshot had jolted them from their sleep. Castiel turned his eyes away from Dean and looked down at the weather-worn wood beneath his forearms, watching his breath float away from him in a faint plume of mist.

   “I don’t know. Without studying the state of his mind, I can’t know.” Gabriel had been their only way to know what was happening to Sam, and he had vanished into thin air. Castiel paused for a beat before continuing, straightening up from the railing and turning to face Dean. “We thought he remembered what happened, that he was over the worst, but I fear that’s not the case. Unleashing all those memories could lead to… insanity, or he could be fine. There is no way of telling.” Dean nodded thoughtfully before stretching his arms above his head, the vertebrae in his spine cracking in the silence of the dawn. Castiel looked towards the horizon once more to distract himself, having learned already that staring at humans was not considered polite, or comfortable. Really all he wanted to do was study Dean, to marvel at this creature he had put back together, but it was not polite.

   “Hey, Cas?” Dean was beside him again, hitching his jeans up before resting one hand on the railing. Castiel nodded gently and squinted towards the rising sun, relishing the burn in his eyes. Humans were told not to stare at the sun, but Castiel could not resist. Never before had he realised things on this planet could be so beautiful. But he had. When he had dragged a tormented soul out of Hell, he had seen the beauty of it. “You well enough to help with these demons?” So Dean still planned to go and interrogate the demons in Hutchinson. Castiel felt tired and drained, and every muscle in his body screamed at him to go and lie down somewhere, but he found himself nodding regardless.

   “I believe so but… I think I may need some more appropriate clothing,” he said as he motioned to the trousers that were in desperate need of a clean and the t-shirt that hung from his shoulders like a tent. Dean grinned and rolled his eyes over the angel’s body just for a moment, amused by the way he seemed so small in those clothes.

   “Yeah, sure, we’ll stop and pick you some more tax accountant clothes up,” he joked, green eyes touched with gold as the sun’s rays reached them and drenched them in friendly warmth. Castiel smiled and shook his head, heading towards the house. He was not sure if he wanted to dress the same again. It was all he had ever known and yet he found himself not particularly caring. He was surprisingly comfortable in Dean’s shirt, but it was not suitable for running into battle against demons. Maybe he would find a t-shirt his own size.

~*~

The drive to Hutchinson took about four hours, with a brief stop in town to pick some clothes up for Castiel. He felt more ready to fight with a clean dress shirt and pair of slacks, and his familiar trench coat that had been kindly washed by Gabriel while he had been sleeping, and yet he did not feel as comfortable as he had thought he would. He still wore Dean’s t-shirt beneath his shirt to keep him warm, a problem that is very human and very annoying, and yet he felt constricted again. He was starting to think maybe it was his skin that was making him feel trapped and useless. He could feel his grace slowly rekindling itself inside him, and yet it was painfully slow. While it was in such a state he would remain trapped in this useless human form, and that was something he simply was not comfortable with.

   It was just Dean and Castiel after Sam had had another severe headache and collapsed on the way to the car, and Dean had insisted Bobby was better off staying back to look after his little brother. They spent the day driving around trying to locate the demons. A string of murders and disappearances had first caught their attention, but then people had spoke of black smoke and they had known they were on the right track. They stopped for dinner at a local diner, and Castiel was mortified to find that he was actually incredibly hungry, not for the first time in his existence. He let Dean order food for him, not knowing what he wanted and only knowing that his stomach was cramping from hunger and that was incredibly uncomfortable. When the burger and fries appeared before him he thought he had just discovered a new type of Heaven. His stomach lurched in appreciation of the food and he was soon devouring whatever was on his plate. Dean was amused, a grin spreading onto his face as he chewed on his own burger. “You should be human more often,” he mused before taking another bite. Castiel frowned and looked at him, swallowing his mouthful before replying.

   “Why is that? I am of no use in this form,” he muttered, eyeing up his food for a second before taking one of the fries and trying it. He had to admit, he could see the appeal of eating more often.

   “It’s good to see you actually having an appetite. Makes you seem less like a robot.” Castiel thought he could make more of an effort to eat regardless if the food was always this good. Even as a powerful angel he could still somewhat appreciate the taste, even if it did not provide any purpose. “So how long are you gonna be like this, anyway?” Castiel had thought about that question long and hard over the last day or so. His abilities were coming back to him, but it was an agonisingly slow process. He predicted within a week he would be nearly back to normal.

   “A few more days,” he said simply, making his way through the fries on his plate one by one. Maybe he would indulge more often. He had forgotten how good this food really was, but it was quickly coming back to him. Dean nodded in response but did not say anything else, polishing off his burger and reading a newspaper in front of him idly.

   “Take it you’ll be zapping off, then,” he said after a few minutes of silence, but his gaze never lifted. If it had lifted then he may have caught the bemused look on Castiel’s face and the curious head tilt. Dean thought he would just leave again, which was probably a very good assumption. Castiel had not really thought about it, but now he did he did not think he would be leaving any time soon. He was on Heaven’s most wanted list, and ‘zapping’ anywhere could be fatal for him. He would be of more use to the Winchesters if he stayed around them, helped them in their quest to find out what was happening.

   “I don’t think so. As soon as I fly anywhere I’ll be discovered by Heaven. Even with my abilities I will not be able to use them.” This time Dean did look up, a small smile on his face.

   “Well alright then, you can help us find out what the hell is going on,” he said cheerfully, finishing off his fries and folding up the newspaper. Castiel nodded and finished the last bite of his burger. They soon left the diner and headed off to follow up their next lead, a suspicious old man on the edge of town.

   It grew dark fast, the sun setting in a brilliant array of purple and gold. They tracked the demons down to an old house in the middle of nowhere, standing tall and foreboding against a backdrop of nothingness. Suddenly Castiel was nervous. He would have to fight like a human, which was not a huge problem, but he would also hurt like a human. He took the knife Dean offered him and looked towards the house a few hundred yards away. They had probably already been spotted, with no cover at all on the barren stretch of road. “Alright, you know the plan?” Castiel nodded and trained his eyes on Dean. Take them all out other than one, and trap the last one for interrogation. It was simple, or at least it seemed, but nothing involving the Winchesters was ever simple in Castiel’s experience. Dean pulled his salt-loaded shot gun out and then closed the trunk, eyeing up the house. Dean would do the trapping part, as he insisted.

   The house was silent as they flanked it, Dean taking the front of the house as Castiel crept around to the back. Dean felt nerves prickle inside him as he reached the front door. It was far too quiet. He had given Castiel the knife in the knowledge that he was better with that than he was a gun and could not use his own powers, but that left Dean with only a shotgun full of painful salt. His fingers ran over the bottle of holy water in his jacket pocket and he took a deep breath. All he had to do was pin and trap a demon; that could not be too difficult, right? He was also the distraction. He heard a creak on the other side of the door and suddenly he was moving, kicking the rotting wooden door open with ease and releasing a shot into the nearest demon. The creature screeched and fell away, but there were so many more. There must have been at least twenty in that one building, and suddenly they were rushing from all the rooms and into the wide hallway of the house. Their eyes were black and empty, a few of them brandishing knives as they leapt towards Dean. He was suddenly starting to think this was all a bad idea, but the thought was soon stamped down by the flash of tan trench coat. He jerked his head to one side to see Castiel spin effortlessly between the falling corpse of one demon and the oncoming monster behind him. The knife sank in easily and the demon was gone in a flash of dull light. Dean let loose more shots into the approaching demons, holding them back and distracting them as best he could while Castiel picked them off.

   It was all going so well until he was blind-sided by a demon in a particularly large vessel. He recognised it as the demon from a few days ago, and he pulled the same move, throwing Dean through the air so he hit a wall in the nearby dining room, sending various ornaments flying and smashing to the floor. It was a dull pain at first, just a bruise, but as he moved he felt the sharp pain in his shoulder. He grunted and fell down to the floor as the stupidly large demon approached him. He was seriously sick of demons. As he went to push himself up to fight, he was thrown against the wall again, and he could not help but cry out as the stupid bastard pushed a hand right into his broken shoulder. “You bastard!” He yelled, managing to release a shot into the demon’s stomach. It fell away, but the sneer on its face was horrific as it squared up again to Dean.

   All Dean could do was grin as he saw the flare of tan behind him. He relished the look of puzzlement on its face and then the look of horror as a knife sank into its neck. It fell to the floor with a thud and there was Castiel, already turning to face the remaining demons. There were just five left, and they were all right there in front of them. Dean got to his feet and stood beside the angel, half cradling his painful limb and half pointing the shotgun at the demons. The blade in Castiel’s hand flashed as he spun it easily, lowering himself in preparation. Dean had to admit it was pretty impressive, and all he could do was admire the way Castiel met the demons that launched forwards again. Dean selected his target then, a smaller female vessel with dark hair and pale skin, and he made his move. Castiel saw Dean lock onto the demon and made short work of the remaining four as Dean unloaded shot after shot into his target, backing her away from the rest of her group. She snarled and tried to circle around him, but he side-stepped to stop her, firing another round into her. Suddenly, Castiel was behind her, a blade pressed to her throat and a hand gripping her hair to tilt her head back. Dean moved quickly, pulling the sack from his pocket before throwing it over her head, the symbol on it preventing her from expelling from her vessel. She shrieked and fought but Castiel held her tight, pinning her arms to her back with one hand as the other continued to hold the knife to her throat. “Relax, we aren’t going to hurt you… yet,” Dean growled as he pulled out the spray can he had been carrying and threw the rug back before starting to mark out the trap on the floor.

   Castiel threw the demon forward into the trap once it was complete and removed the bag from her head. She would have been a pretty, young girl if she were not currently possessed by such an abomination. The angel wiped some blood from his nose where one of the demons had managed to backhand him and watched as Dean started to circle the demon, apparently ignoring the obvious pain in his shoulder. The demon sneered at him and followed him with dark eyes, confined within the trap but turning with him nonetheless. “Okay, so you’re going to tell us what the plan is, and if you don’t then we’ll gut you until you do.” The demon laughed and Dean merely met it with a smirk, eyes shadowed but glinting in the dim light.

   “Oh boy, torture, what a way to get a lady turned on,” she goaded, that sickening grin plastered all over her face. “And what if I do tell you?”

   “Then I kill you, and put you out of your misery.” Castiel stopped the flow of blood from his nose and moved to stand in the corner of the room to watch, leaving Dean to this part. Torture was not something Castiel was very comfortable with any more. He watched as the demon narrowed her eyes and Dean dragged a chair over from the corner before pushing her down onto it. He soon had her tied down and restrained fully, and he moved over to Castiel. “Knife, Cas,” he said quietly, and the angel reluctantly lifted the bloody blade to him. In the same motion, he reached out a hand to press lightly against Dean’s shoulder, and Dean felt that familiar warmth spread through and eliminate the pain. Dean nodded to Castiel and turned back to the demon to get on with the interrogation. Castiel was not going to enjoy this, but he would not let Dean suffer through such a thing alone again. He would be there for the aftermath, and he would make sure to stop him if things went too far. Castiel was worried about the man. He had not been concerned that there was a human around that demon, that to torture the demon would be to torture the human. His argument was that more lives were at stake, that the Apocalypse was coming again and this was not the time to pussy foot around the technicalities. Castiel did not like that.

   The first cut dragged a small cry from the demon, and then a cackle of laughter that made Castiel’s gut twist. He could see her true form writhing around as the blade sliced straight down her front. All she did was laugh, and Castiel knew that this would only spur Dean on. He wanted to look away but he could not, and he watched in mild horror as Dean drew away to douse the blade in holy water. “So, what’s the plan?” Dean’s voice was quiet and dangerous, his eyes on the demon as he approached her again with the wet blade, holy water mixed with blood dripping to the floor. The demon grinned and tilted her head, straining against her restraints.

   “Why would I tell a filthy Winchester?” she snarled, and it was all the excuse Dean needed to dig the knife further into her gut, the holy water searing against her flesh and causing her to let out a scream of pain. He twisted the blade and she writhed violently, head thrown back as her scream turned into a growl.

   “The plan?” The demon snapped her head back to look at Dean, her eyes black as coal and a sneer on her face. Castiel saw Dean shrug lightly before carving a new path in a horizontal line across her stomach. She wailed again and the chair creaked beneath her struggling, and Castiel had to close his eyes. He had never wished for this to happen to Dean again, and watching it was making him sick to his core. His wings withdrew until they were pressed tight against him and he took a deep breath. Another shriek from the demon forced him to open his eyes, only to see Dean pouring holy water into her open stomach. It burned and smoked, the smell of it stinging at Castiel’s senses. For the first time in his life he actually wanted to vomit, his stomach churning and his throat tightening, but he fought it down and started to move around the devil trap towards the door. Her incessant screaming would surely attract attention soon, and he wished more than anything for this to be over already. “The plan, or I start removing flesh.” He heard Dean growl out the words and his stomach did another horrible twist. The demon gasped out and then laughed once more. She did not stop laughing, even as Dean started to carve the flesh from her arms with a terrifying precision.

   “You idiotic bastards,” she cackled through her newly intensified screams. Dean placed the knife to her throat and applied pressure, and Castiel just wanted to wipe the smug grin off the demon’s face. “You think you can stop it this time? You’re wrong, as usual. You think you are so important, Dean Winchester? You’re wrong, again.” Castiel moved closer, fists clenched lightly at his sides. His thoughts were confirmed, they did not need Dean. “All we need is Lucifer’s vessel.” Dean pressed the blade tighter against her throat, making her choke and gag.

   “You need him to say yes,” he said quietly, and Castiel could see the anger boiling beneath the cool, calculating gaze. “You can’t do anything without him saying yes.” The demon only grinned, head cocked to one side, and that was all the excuse Dean needed to plunge the knife into her chest. She flickered out of existence with a dull flash of light and her vessel collapsed forwards against the restraints. “He has to say yes,” Dean repeated to himself, straightening up and turning his back to the angel and the dead human.

~*~

Dean insisted on burying the bodies, as if it would make him feel better after murdering all those vessels. He dug the grave himself as Castiel carried the bodies out one by one, his back protesting greatly at the exertion. They laid them to rest behind the house, and Dean would have been a fool if he had thought that would make him feel better. They had barely gained anything from that, and he was suddenly feeling hopeless. The angels wanted to restart the Apocalypse, but the demons were involved too. This unholy alliance was certainly starting to worry Dean, and then there was what the demon had said, or rather what she had not said. Why had she grinned at the idea of Sam saying yes? What did she know? Dean straightened from covering the bodies with soil and wiped his brow, sweating despite the chilled night air. Castiel was stood beside him, looking down at the disturbed earth with a sorrowful gaze. There had been a time when he would not have cared about the death of demon vessels, but now he seemed genuinely troubled about the whole thing. “Cas?” His voice felt almost foreign to him, hoarse and dry. The angel lifted his gaze to Dean and in those eyes he could see a mountain of confusion and what could only be described as pain.

   “Dean I-” He stopped and span around, backing up against Dean defensively as he stared into the darkness. Dean was about to say something when someone else spoke before him.

   “Down, boy,” a gravelly voice said from the shadows, and Dean was rolling his eyes before he knew it. He felt Castiel bristle against him as Crowley stepped forwards, hands in his pockets idly and a look of pure apathy on his face. “You should really keep your pets on a leash,” he said calmly, and Dean felt his anger rising again. He also felt the angry pulse of energy from the angel in front of him, and Crowley must have felt it too as he cocked one eyebrow. “I’m just here to talk.”

   “Of course you are,” Dean muttered as he placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder. The angel glanced at him and relaxed a little, but he soon locked his gaze back onto the demon in front of him. “Should have known you’d have your finger in this pie, really.”

   “Oh on the contrary,” Crowley smirked and Dean thought then that it was possibly the smuggest thing he had ever seen in his life.

   “Care to elaborate?”

   “You know, I never liked these demons. Too… rebellious for my taste,” he digressed as he looked down at the fresh grave at his feet. Dean gritted his teeth and stepped up beside Castiel, feeling the angry vibes radiating off him.

   “So they’re in cohorts with the angels?” Crowley gave him a bored look that told him he was off the mark by a mile, and his frustration only grew at that.

   “No.” Dean raised an eyebrow as a prompt and the demon stared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Are you boys really that stupid?”

   “Apparently so,” Dean murmured. Crowley seemed to pause then, gazing around behind Dean and briefly glancing over his shoulder.

   “Where’s your moose?” Dean was about ready to wipe the smug look off his face, but he felt Castiel’s hand firm on his arm and knew that any attempt to lunge forward would be fruitless.

   “With your mother,” Dean growled lowly, dragging an exasperated look from the smug bastard.

   “How imaginative. I’m guessing that little wall in his mind has broken, then?” Crowley rocked slightly on the balls of his feet and he knew he had Dean’s full attention then.

   “You know what’s happening to him?” He cursed the small sound of hope in his voice, the hoarseness of it. His brother was suffering and he did not know what to do, and maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to help. Crowley smiled again in his own way and looked to Castiel.

   “Of course, I was downstairs cleaning up the mess you boys had made when one of your boyfriend’s brothers decided to come crashing in.” Castiel’s gaze narrowed and his grip suddenly tightened up on Dean’s arm. Dean did not even wince at the pain, or bother to fight back the jibe at Castiel being his boyfriend, his mind jumping to a thousand conclusions. “You see, there I was, the new King of Hell,” Dean felt Castiel bubble slightly with emotion and took a deep breath himself. “And I’m trying to make things a little more organised, because flayed flesh and endless screaming is overrated, and then suddenly in comes this stupidly holy bastard with some mission from God.”

   “Who was it?” Dean was stunned to hear Castiel speak all of a sudden, and even more stunned to find that he sounded perfectly calm and normal, despite the tense energy that was pulsing straight from his hand and into Dean’s arm. Crowley shrugged and tightened his lips slightly.

   “Don’t know him. Didn’t want to know him. Good old Lucifer didn’t seem happy to see him, though,” Crowley mused. Dean pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed lightly, his head starting to hurt. Sam had been dragged out of the cage by a powerful angel, pieced back together with a wall in his mind, and now the angels wanted him as a vessel again. He had about had enough, and now he was discovering Crowley was in charge of Hell, which was a horrible scenario in anyone’s book.

   “What do you want, Crowley?” Dean asked quietly, opening his eyes again and sighing.

   “What I don’t want is Lucifer back alive and kicking. You see, someone had to take charge, so I did. And now these idiots,” he kicked the loose dirt on top of the grave as if to emphasise his point, “decided to start another revolution. Anyway, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. I assure you I want Lucifer in your brother’s body just as much as you. I want that cage to stay locked, for good.” Dean did not know if he could trust a word coming out of the demon’s mouth, and yet he was tempted to believe it. If Crowley was telling the truth and he really was in charge of Hell, then it only made sense that he would not want Lucifer to return. And yet, Crowley did not have a history of being honest.

   “How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Crowley merely cocked his head at Dean’s words and spread his hands.

   “You don’t. You’re running out of friends, Dean. You can’t trust me, of course, but we aim for the same goal. Call me when you come up with a plan.” With that he was gone, leaving Dean stood in the dark with a very angry angel who was nearly breaking his arm.

   “Cas… Cas let go,” Dean said quietly, prising the fingers away from his probably now bruised arm. Castiel looked at him and released his fingers, breath seeming to leave him in sharp bursts.

   “Sorry,” he breathed. “We should return to Sam.” Dean nodded and turned to leave, Castiel at his side. The plan had appeared so clear before, but now Dean’s mind was running over the facts and coming up with nothing. He needed a drink.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll stay awake. Rest.” His voice was soft yet insistent and Dean stared at him a moment before nodding and sitting up to pull the boots off that he still had on his feet. There was no point in arguing with an angel who had endless patience.

The whiskey burned against his throat as it went down and he relished it, rocking back in his chair at Bobby’s kitchen table and sighing to himself. The house was quiet apart from the gentle snoring of his brother in the next room, and it felt good. Dean rarely had peace in his life, but right at that point he was at peace. Screw the Apocalypse, he had everything under this one roof. He had Sam, Bobby, and Castiel, and that was all he needed. Deep down a dull voice told him that the Apocalypse could take them all away from him, and he shut it up with another shot of whiskey. He heard the gentle pad of bare feet against the floor and looked up to see Castiel at the door, hair damp and a small smile on his face. “What got you so happy?” he asked with an amused smirk, pouring himself another glass.

   “I think I could get used to showers,” he replied sleepily, slipping into a chair near Dean and folding his hands in his lap. Dean shook his head and grinned before taking a sip of his drink. Castiel watched him curiously, the way his lips pressed against the glass and his throat moved to swallow the liquid. Human motion was completely fascinating, but Dean was even more fascinating. In all his existence Castiel did not think he had seen such an incredible human, and he was proud to be the one who had raised him from perdition and pieced him back together. Pride, another human emotion, considered to be a sin, that Castiel was unintentionally feeling lately.

   “You need something?” Dean asked quietly, swirling his drink around in the glass and watching it with distant eyes. Castiel tilted his head, his usual frown crossing onto his face.

   “No.”

   “Then why aren’t you asleep?” Dean lifted his gaze and Castiel’s frown faded. He had not thought he needed a reason to sit with Dean, but clearly this was not a time Dean wanted company. Either way, he did not feel ready to sleep, despite his exhaustion. Hunting demons had taken all his energy, and yet the idea of going up to the room alone was not a comfortable idea.

   “I can’t,” he said simply, and Dean quirked an eyebrow before sipping his drink again in thought.

   “Have you even tried?” Castiel shook his head and looked down at his hands.

   “I don’t want to.” His voice was gruff and quiet and Dean strained to hear it.

   “You don’t want to?” The angel nodded and Dean sighed, placing his glass down on the table. “Why not?” He knew Castiel had been dreaming, he had seen his fitful states in the night, and he assumed that was it. Angels did not dream, it must have been a very disorienting thing for him. Castiel fiddled with his hands for a moment and did not look up.

   “Every time I have slept, you have been present,” he said quietly. Dean could hardly believe that an angel of the Lord needed someone to watch over him while he slept, and so a smile crept onto his face. Castiel looked up to see this smile and embarrassment flooded into his features.

   “The angel of the Lord who threatened to throw me back into Hell can’t sleep without me to look after him,” Dean mused softly, resting his chin on his palm and his elbow on the table as he watched Castiel look back down at his hands.

   “That is not the case. I have never known any different when it comes to sleeping. I don’t think I can sleep without the familiarity. I enjoy sleeping, and yet… it is an unusual experience.” Dean’s smile was still there as he finished his drink and stood from the table, a hand coming to rest on Castiel’s shoulder.

   “Well alright then, let’s go, you need sleep.” Castiel nodded and followed him up to the bedroom, the floorboards cold and rough against his feet, and yet he enjoyed the feel of them. He climbed into bed and curled up into the sheets as Dean lay out on the other bed, hands behind his head as he gazed out at the moon climbing across the sky. Dean had no intention of sleeping.

   Dean spent the whole night listening for noise from downstairs, in case Sam needed him. Castiel’s breathing came out in deep, quiet exhales and Dean found it relaxing and soothing, his eyes often wandering over to the angel to watch his chest rise and fall. It was strange to see him so relaxed. Castiel was always on edge, always awkward, and to see him frown-free and splayed comfortably on his back was calming. He rolled on his side to watch the angel, his hair ruffled and messy and his mouth slightly open from relaxation. Dean wondered how his wings were feeling, and cursed himself for not checking on them before Castiel had fallen to sleep. He would make sure to check in the morning to set his mind at ease.

   The steady breathing of the angel had almost lulled Dean to sleep when there was a soft crash from downstairs. He was awake in an instant, being careful not to wake Castiel as he slipped out of the door and moved silently down the steps. There was a light in the kitchen, but it was no human made light. It was golden and yet blue at the same time, and it stung Dean’s eyes. He moved forwards slowly, picking up a gun from Bobby’s desk before moving any closer. There was a figure kneeling on the floor of the kitchen, holding itself up by arms soaked in light and blood. Dean held the gun at his side as he approached, heart in his mouth. As his eyes adjusted to the light, his heart plummeted from his throat right down into the pit of his stomach. He could see them faintly, hung limply from its back and trailing out across the kitchen floor, coated in blood and mangled beyond belief. There were six. Six wings. Three pairs. “Gabriel,” Dean gasped, rushing forwards and discarding his gun. The archangel shuddered and managed to lift his head, golden eyes dull and hair matted with blood. The absence of a smug look on that face made Dean’s stomach turn and he fell to his knees before Gabriel, pressing hands to his shoulders. “What the hell happened?” Gabriel supported his weight on Dean, pressing one hand to Dean’s forearm, and swallowed hard.

   “Not safe,” he coughed, looking towards the sigils that were painted on the windows. Sam had made a valiant effort with Bobby to angel proof the house, but it was not complete. He pushed himself up on Dean, and Dean helped him to stand. “Quickly,” he hissed through the pain, forcing Dean to help him towards the windows. He cursed through the pain and corrected the sigils before collapsing back onto the floor. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

   “I could say the same to you,” Dean muttered, helping him back up off the floor and towards the library. He was glad Gabriel’s vessel was small, thinking how much he always struggled to drag Sam’s ass around. He lay Gabriel on the sofa and looked over his shoulder as Sam stirred, rubbing one huge hand over his eyes. Gabriel groaned and clutched at his stomach, writhing for a moment before panting and rolling onto his side. A few of his injuries had disappeared, but he was clearly out of power to heal the rest. Sam opened his eyes and frowned before sitting up suddenly.

   “Gabriel?” His voice was hoarse from sleep and he blinked a few times to get the drowsiness out of his mind.

   “Hey, kiddo,” he said weakly, closing his eyes. Dean was at a loss. Gabriel had always been kicking their asses and showing everyone how it was done, to see him in such a mess was truly heartbreaking in a way. Castiel was suddenly in the room, eyes full of sleep as he gazed at Gabriel silently. Dean knew he could see the same damage that he could, and saw the shadow of his wings quiver and draw into his body. He looked back to Gabriel, who was not leaking light any more. Sam was at Dean’s side in front of the archangel, hands hovering as if he wanted to do something.

   “Can we help?” His little brother said desperately, looking from Gabriel to Dean with wide eyes. Dean shook his head slowly and glanced to Castiel. He had been here before.

   “I’ll get a cloth; all we can do is clean him up.” He straightened and walked to the kitchen, and he knew Castiel was right behind him. The angel was nearly silent barefoot, but he could feel that gaze on the back of his head. He spun around as soon as he was sure he was far enough out of earshot, raising an eyebrow. “What the hell?” he hissed, motioning towards the library containing a broken archangel. Castiel shook his head glumly and Dean saw the shadow of his wings flex as if to reassure himself they were fine.

   “I don’t know. It must have taken an angel of great power to have such an effect on Gabriel,” Castiel said quietly, clearly uneasy. Dean pursed his lips and turned to grab a cloth and run it under the tap.

   “He also said the sigils were wrong, but you couldn’t get in earlier until I dragged you in.” Dean saw Castiel move out of the corner of his eye, inspecting the symbols that Gabriel had altered and corrected.

   “I don’t recognise these,” he mused quietly, tilting his head as if that would make everything so much clearer. “They call on such ancient names… nothing can see us here.” Dean wrung the cloth out and moved beside Castiel as he continued to study the sigils.

   “Powerful stuff?” The angel nodded, eyes sliding to look at Dean.

   “Very. It is also much older than me.” Dean raised an eyebrow again before moving away to take the cloth to Sam.

   Castiel remained to study the symbols a little longer before returning to the three beings that had now become four, Bobby stood grumpily beside Dean as Sam cleaned up the weeping wounds of the angel. “This is the third time this bastard’s woke me up,” Bobby grumbled, arms folded. Somehow he was dressed as normal as if he had never been sleeping, complete with battered old baseball cap. “You say he can be hurt now?” Dean laughed and looked at Gabriel who was glowering at Bobby with a new fire before Sam pressed the cloth to the cut on his cheek.

   “Ow! Watch it, manhands,” he wailed. Sam grinned and carried on his work, and suddenly Dean felt a little sorry for Gabriel. Sam was not the most gentle of creatures with his stupidly large hands. Dean refused to clean up another angel, however.

   “I take it you came alone,” Bobby said gruffly before unfolding his arms and sitting down heavily at his desk. Gabriel nodded slowly, eyes now training a glower onto Sam.

   “I killed off the angels that were following me, and then I fixed your angel-proofing.” Dean felt Castiel brush against him and looked down at the tired angel. Sleep seemed vital for him at the moment, and being woken in the middle of the night was really no good for him.

   “Hey, Cas, go back to bed,” Dean said gently. Castiel shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face.

   “I can’t,” he muttered and Dean nodded in understanding, but suddenly Gabriel had perked up. Dean offered him a glare of warning as he opened his mouth to say something smart, and the archangel paused with his mouth agape. Dean was not sure how much power Gabriel still had, but if he was latching onto their thoughts and knew why Castiel could not sleep, Dean did not want that blurting out. Things were difficult enough for the younger angel as it was without added embarrassment.

   “Alright, then at least sit down,” he murmured as Gabriel grinned that same old grin of his and looked back to Sam. Clearly someone was starting to feel better. Castiel took Dean’s advice and sat on the empty sofa, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs as he watched Sam clean up the archangel. “Alright, so what happened?” He stood in front of Bobby’s desk and folded his arms over his chest, and Gabriel threw him withering look. “Seriously. An archangel turns up like this and we’re meant to just shrug it off?”

   “Seems like you’ve got some explainin’ to do,” Bobby added quietly. Gabriel looked from the two men to Sam, who was busy patching up a deep gash on his exposed forearm.

   “Seriously Sammy, they’ll heal,” he murmured, but Sam only shook his head.

   “Stop evading their questions.” At those words Gabriel sighed and rolled his head back against the arm of the sofa.

   “Fine. I got outta here, right? Ended up in Shanghai or something. Anyway, long story short, they caught up with me, and I killed them.” He waved a hand as if to brush off the topic, but Castiel had other ideas.

   “Who caught you? Who… did that to you?” He appeared to gesture towards nothing, but Dean knew he was talking about the wings. Gabriel seemed to lose all his energy again, closing his eyes and drawing his arm away from Sam.

   “Camael,” he muttered, and Sam withdrew his hands that had been trying to clean up the angel so he could simply stare.

   “Camael?” Trust Sam to be the nerd about this. Castiel had buried his head in his hands and was muttering something under his breath and Bobby was staring intently at Gabriel, but Dean really had no clue what the name Camael meant.

   “Yes, Sam, that’s what I said.” Gabriel rolled his eyes and looked at Sam again.

   “I thought Camael was dead. Wasn’t he meant to die… you know… ages ago?” At least Sam knew his stuff.

   “You are such a nerd,” Dean grumbled before going to sit next to Castiel. The younger angel had tilted his head back and had his eyes closed, and Dean did not care to disturb him.

   “Sammy, I was meant to be dead. You are meant to be dead. Dean-o there is meant to be dead. Not to mention little brother there. Since when was anything as straight forward as dead or alive with you guys?” Dean had to admit he had a point there. In his life people were constantly raised from the dead, so why not some long dead, all-powerful angel? He was about fed up of things getting more and more complicated. Nothing was making any sense any more.

   “So if Camael isn’t dead, what does that even mean?” Bobby grunted from his desk, rubbing a hand over his beard. Gabriel shrugged lightly, but Dean could see he knew exactly what it meant. Bobby seemed to see it too. “Don’t shrug at me, boy,” he growled lowly. Gabriel sighed and watched as Sam went back to washing the cuts on his arm.

   “It means we’re all royally screwed, obviously. He’s all for justice, all that holy stuff, and he doesn’t like humans all that much either,” Gabriel said quietly, eyes following Sam’s overly long fingers as they gripped his forearm firmly to hold him in place. “He thinks if he lets Lucifer out of the cage then he’ll take care of Earth and Heaven can go on its merry way and never have to worry about it again. Of course that’s idiotic,” he said with a roll of his eyes. Dean had really had enough. The angels had no agenda other than to wipe out the human race? He was sick of those holy bastards. His eyes slipped sideways towards Castiel to see that he was asleep. Dean raised an eyebrow as he watched the angel’s head loll to one side, mouth slightly open. Several thoughts ran through his mind at that point, one of which was that he could not leave him to sleep downstairs with his trickster of a brother when Castiel was actually having dreams, something that appeared to be a bemusing experience for an angel. “Well isn’t that just adorable,” Gabriel cooed from his place on the other sofa, allowing Sam to clean him up again now. He would no doubt be able to clean himself up very soon, but he seemed happy to entertain the younger Winchester. Dean rolled his eyes and punched Castiel lightly on the arm, watching as the angel frowned and murmured something under his breath.

   “Cas, wake up and get your ass to bed.” He ignored the small eyebrow wriggle from the archangel and the smirk from Sam and shook Castiel lightly. “Come on.”

   “Oh just leave him down here, I’ll look after him,” Gabriel sighed. Dean rolled his eyes and straightened up from the sofa, one hand rubbing through his hair idly.

   “Because you’re in any fit state to look after anyone. Oh and let’s not forget your track record of looking after people,” he murmured as he poked Castiel lightly again, only making the angel curl up further into himself. Gabriel laughed at the scene and then grinned.

   “And how are you going to get him upstairs? Carry him?” The archangel snorted but his grin soon faded as Dean eyed up the sleeping angel, judging his weight and whether or not he could manage to get him up the stairs. “Oh you are not serious.”

   “I’m not leaving him down here with you,” Dean insisted quietly, leaning down to hook one arm under Castiel’s legs and the other around his back. Castiel was heavier than he looked when he was asleep, but he instinctively wrapped one arm around Dean’s neck and buried his face against his shoulder. “God you’re a child,” Dean muttered, straightening up with Castiel in his arms. “A damn heavy one.” He rolled his eyes at the smug looks from Gabriel and Sam and the look of ‘what the fuck’ from Bobby and started to leave the room. “No funny business, I need some damn sleep too,” he called over his shoulder as he reached the stairs and began to climb them. Castiel tightened his grip on the back of Dean’s shirt, long fingers wrapping into the fabric, and it took all Dean’s effort not to shudder at that. The angel was nuzzled right against his chest and he had to admit it was warm and somewhat comforting. He had not carried anyone to bed since the time a young Sam fell asleep in front of the TV, and the motel had been too cold and the sofa too uncomfortable for him to stay there. Dean would have no chance or carrying Sam now, but at least Castiel was light enough.

   Dean kicked the door to the room open lightly and stepped through sideways, being careful not to catch the angel’s legs on the door frame. “You had better be grateful for this,” he grunted as he placed Castiel down on the nearest bed, tugging the sheets from underneath him as he had done many times before with his little brother. Castiel groaned as he was laid back against the pillows, a frown creasing his brow as Dean prised his fingers away from his shirt. “Clingy bastard,” he muttered, and Castiel finally opened his eyes blearily. “Oh so now you wake up.” Confusion flickered through blue eyes and the frown deepened, but at least Castiel finally let go of him and let Dean throw the sheets back over him.

   “What happened?” His voice was rough with sleep and he honestly sounded like he had gone ten rounds with a hooker. Dean smirked and fell back onto his own bed, casting a gaze out at the now obscured moon, the cloud cover making things a whole lot darker.

   “You fell asleep, so I thought I’d rescue you from Gabriel,” he said casually. Castiel rolled over to face Dean, pulling the covers up over his shoulder and curling up into them.

   “Thank you. I do not wish to sleep around one of my brothers. It is disturbing enough already,” he said lowly. Dean had figured as much.

   “Don’t mention it, just go back to sleep.” Dean watched as Castiel closed his eyes once more and let out a deep breath, burying himself deeper in the bed until he was just a puff of dark hair against the pillow. Dean grinned to himself and returned to watching the clouds drift over the moon, the silver glow seeping through the wisps that attempted to blot out the light. Downstairs was quiet other than the distant noise of Bobby lecturing Gabriel and Sam, and then his footsteps as he returned to bed. Silence fell again, a suspicious silence considering the archangel in the house, but Dean left it alone. Again his world was filled with the heavy breathing of the angel in the next bed and he closed his eyes in relaxation. He guessed a few hours of sleep would do no harm, and it was not like Sam was alone downstairs any more. Tomorrow they would have to come up with a plan to prevent the angels from letting Lucifer out of the cage. It would help if they knew how the angels planned to do that.

   Dean awoke the sound of his own screams some time after drifting into sleep. He gasped for breath that was not clogged with sulphur, wretched and choked as he regained the use of his lungs. Everything in his vision was red and burning and his skin felt like it was on fire. He felt like his bones were being ripped from his body and the pain was unbearable. It was Hell all over again, the endless screams mixed in with his own, the stench of burning flesh stinging his throat and making his eyes water. He felt hands upon him, searing to the touch and yet somehow comforting. Blue light entered his vision, pale and soothing, and he felt the fires doused immediately. His vision cleared slowly to reveal the worried gaze of the angel, a frown detailed on his face and his calm blue eyes staring deep into Dean’s, as if he were looking right into his soul. Dean realised he probably was. He felt the sweat cool on his body and started to shiver, struggling to find any words and force them past his throat.

   “You were dreaming of Hell,” Castiel said calmly, pressing a warm hand to Dean’s clammy forehead. Dean closed his eyes and gulped for air, subconsciously leaning into the warm fingers that were against his skin. He needed the comfort, to know he was no longer in the pit. He felt a calming energy soothe his mind, felt himself relaxing beneath that touch, and he suddenly started to realise that Castiel was regaining more of his power with every day. “You are safe.” The words swam into his mind as he felt the fingers leave his skin, leaving only a cold dampness behind. He felt utterly awful. “You should try to go back to sleep.” Dean shook his head and opened his eyes again, looking up at the calm yet sleepy face above him. He could feel a warm hand still on his shoulder where it had been placed to still him. It really had no reason to be there anymore.

   “I don’t think sleep’s a good idea,” Dean murmured, shuffling onto the bed a bit more and patting the mattress as an invitation. Castiel took it gladly and stood from where he had been crouched on the floor to sit on the bed instead. He was ruffled but still looked the picture of calm that Castiel always was, folding his hands on his lap and staring at Dean. Had he not gotten so used to being stared at by a celestial being it would have been extremely creepy, but Dean merely met the gaze and managed a smile. “Thank you, again.” Castiel nodded and finally looked away towards the bed that was calling him back to sleep. He did not appear to be as exhausted as he had been, but he seemed to have that longing to just fall back under the covers and not wake up again until the afternoon. “Maybe you should just go back to sleep.” Castiel huffed something that could have been a laugh and turned his gaze back to Dean, who raised an eyebrow in question.

   “I’ll stay awake. Rest.” His voice was soft yet insistent and Dean stared at him a moment before nodding and sitting up to pull the boots off that he still had on his feet. There was no point in arguing with an angel who had endless patience. Boot-free, he rolled backwards to tug the sheets out from beneath him and then settled under them to watch the silhouette that was Castiel. He was motionless and gazing blankly across the room. Dean felt comforted by the presence and closed his eyes after a few, long minutes. Silence reigned again and his breathing soon deepened as the world slipped away and darkness took over completely. It was blissful to know nothing of the world, even if only for a few hours.

~*~

Dean awoke in total confusion, sunlight streaming through the window and straight into his eyes. He tried to move his legs but found them pinned by a weight of some sort. He groaned as he gathered his bearings, pushing a hand to his eyes to block out the sun. He was at Bobby’s. He recognised the smell of gunpowder, whiskey and ‘old things’ that permeated throughout the entire house. He could also hear Sam talking downstairs, or rather the rumble of his voice paired with another that he could not place at first. Gabriel. That had to be Gabriel. As that last piece fell into place, so did the weight on his legs. He opened his eyes once more and pushed himself up on his elbows to see the angel curled up over his legs, fast asleep and completely peaceful. One arm was thrown over the bed and in turn over Dean, and his head was resting against Dean’s shins. He did not think it could be terribly comfortable, and yet Castiel seemed to be able to sleep anywhere. He would not have disturbed the angel if did not desperately need to empty his bladder. He tried to slide his legs from underneath him but Castiel’s eyes suddenly flew open and confusion overtook him as it generally did when he woke up. He sat up quickly, hair sticking up in every direction possible, and stared blankly at Dean. Dean stared back, one eyebrow quirked. “Morning,” he said with an amused smile on his face.

   “Dean?” He still seemed to be piecing things together, throwing a quick glance around the room. He suddenly looked terrified and guilty at the same time. “Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.” It seemed like that action alone would bring on the Apocalypse judging by the expression on his face, but the laugh from Dean wiped away some of the worry.

   “Don’t worry about it, nightmare free,” he grunted as he pushed himself out of bed. “I’ll meet you downstairs.” He left the angel still sitting a little confused on the edge of the bed as he made his way to the bathroom, his bladder positively aching. Mornings were the worst, especially when you tried to drown your worries the night before.

   Dean had just finished brushing his teeth when he heard the heavy footsteps outside on the landing. Castiel was nearly silent and Gabriel had no need to be upstairs and Dean had distinctly heard Bobby leave just five minutes ago. Sam needed to learn to pick his feet up. He opened the door to come face to face with his brother, that infuriating smirk on his face. “Sleep well?” he teased, and Dean felt his own jaw tighten. Looked like someone had been checking up on them.

   “Could have been better,” Dean muttered, wiping some of that smirk off Sam’s face.

   “I- I came up to see if you were awake earlier. Gabriel got this headache and now he thinks he has a plan.”

   “So a headache equals a plan now?” Dean frowned at the taller man. Sam looked away as the door to the bedroom creaked as Castiel appeared, hair still dishevelled and still wearing the too-big shirt that he seemed to want to wear constantly now.

   “Morning, Cas,” Sam said lightly, drawing a nod from the angel before he moved silently downstairs. Sam watched him go and received the glower from Dean as soon as he looked back. “What?”

   “The plan?” It was far too early for this.

   “Oh yeah. I’ll meet you downstairs, Gabriel will explain.” With that, Sam pushed past into the bathroom and Dean rolled his eyes before heading downstairs. Gabriel was having what was possibly the most sickeningly sweet breakfast Dean had ever seen with pancakes and an assortment of syrups and Castiel was watching, mortified, as the various sticky substances were poured over the pancakes.

   “I simply don’t understand,” he mused quietly and Gabriel only laughed. His torn clothes were gone, replaced by a clean shirt, jacket and jeans, and he appeared completely unharmed.

   “Sometimes you just have to try mixing things up,” he answered cheerily before cutting into his meal and looking up at Dean. “Plenty for all of us.” He motioned a hand briefly to the plate stacked high with pancakes and the one accompanying it that was piled up with bacon, sausages, fried eggs and other various fried breakfast materials. Dean’s stomach growled in approval and before he knew it he was sitting down and forking food onto a plate. Castiel watched for a moment before joining in, apparently still feeling some hunger despite his powers slowly returning to him. “So, Cas, nice little push of power last night,” Gabriel said casually, Castiel’s gaze shooting up to him with a slightly wide-eyed expression.

   “I apologise. I thought… I just had to. It took more effort than I thought.” He turned his gaze back down to his plate and now Dean was thoroughly confused. He cast his mind back but it had all been a bit of a blur, waking up repeatedly was a real pain. His mind settled on the dream he had had, and then it became clear. The blue light and the feeling of literally being dragged out of his nightmare as if he were being dragged out of Hell itself. Castiel had thrown himself into Dean’s head again. There was no wonder he had apparently passed out.

   “I wouldn’t worry. The angels have bigger things to worry about at the minute,” Gabriel mused as he poked a pancake with his fork. Sam entered the room and sank down onto a chair between Dean and Gabriel, eyeing up the food on the table. He was about to say something about it, mouth open and ready to protest, but Gabriel merely held up a hand and grinned. “I felt better, and I’m good at doing things under the radar.” Sam narrowed his eyes for a moment before apparently letting it slide and taking a plate to pile up with pancakes.

   “So what are the bigger things the angels are worrying about?” Dean had to admit this was the best bacon he had ever tasted in his life.

   “Ah! Yeah, I’m guessing Cassie here didn’t get the memo?” Gabriel directed his gaze to Castiel who furrowed his brow and shook his head slowly.

   “Memo?” He placed his fork down as if to give his full attention to Gabriel.

   “You didn’t get woken by a new name being seared into your brain?” Castiel shook his head again but his frown had deepened even further.

   “A new prophet?” Gabriel nodded and rocked back in his chair, a puzzled look on his face.

   “You really didn’t feel anything? At all?” Castiel was looking frustrated now and so Dean interjected.

    “What are you on about, Gabriel?” He leaned forwards onto the table and directed his best unamused look towards the archangel. Gabriel slid his eyes over to Dean and then stabbed another piece of pancake with his fork before replying.

   “Some time this morning, around three, someone out there found something very valuable. Every angel out there should have felt it right in their gut.” Gabriel moved his eyes back to Castiel, who was looking panicked, worried and curious all at the same time. “Anyway, at the same time we all became aware of a new prophet. He’s probably in angel custody already.” Dean looked to the younger angel who seemed flustered, trailing long fingers through his hair.

   “I heard nothing,” he said quietly, causing Gabriel to frown. He looked up again, his face a little more clear now, and seemed to compose himself. “What was found?” This caused Gabriel to rock forward as if he had the biggest secret in the world to tell, dropping his fork to his plate and fixing his eyes on Castiel’s.

   “The Word of God. Or one of them, at least.” Castiel went into a state of perpetual frowning at that, hands fidgeting slightly in his lap.

   “Do you think they plan to use it?” Dean carried on eating his breakfast as the angels discussed, processing the information in his brain. He had to admit he had no idea what all this meant, other than that the angels were one stop closer to completing their plan.

   “Of course they do. The Word contains all sorts, it has to contain something about opening up Hell,” Gabriel said calmly as he eyed up a piece of pancake that was practically dripping with syrup. Sam frowned at the offending piece of food.

   “Seriously? What’s even on that?” Sam jabbed his own fork in the direction of Gabriel’s food, and Gabriel merely wriggled his eyebrows and popped the piece of food into his mouth.

   “I honestly don’t know,” he grinned, rocking back in his chair once more.

   “Back on topic,” Dean said loudly, casting a small glare to Sam and Gabriel. “What do we even do about the angels having the Word of God?” Gabriel pulled his gaze away from Sam to fix a stare at Dean.

   “I have no idea. The tablet with the Word on it is going to be in Camael’s care and I don’t really want to go there.” He must have seen the anger building on Dean’s face because he quickly spoke again. “However, demons are always fun to play with. I’ve heard some are most definitely working with the angels.” He turned his attention to Castiel and the younger angel looked up from his uneaten breakfast to meet his gaze. “Can you fly?” Castiel nodded mutely and Dean caught the shadow of his wings flexing as if to reinforce the point. “Alright, then I vote, after we eat, we go and see what they’re up to.” Dean felt a sharp sense that something was not right, that he did not like the idea of Castiel flying off with the archangel into something they had no idea about. Castiel seemed to agree to the plan, what little of it there was, and nodded once more before going back to his food.

   Even as the angel’s were getting ready to leave, Dean still had that sick feeling in his gut. He pulled Castiel outside, guiding him out into the weak autumn warmth, and squared up to him on the porch. Castiel still held the shadows of tiredness in his face and eyes, but he appeared to be feeling better. The angel had his head tilted to one side, as usual, and a slightly perplexed expression etched into his face. “Dean, what’s troubling you?” He went straight to the point, cutting through Dean’s uneasiness, the way he shifted from foot to foot trying to find the words to say. Dean was glad, it made it easier to just come out with what he wanted to say. Castiel was stood close, making it so only he and Dean could hear their conversation.

   “I just don’t like how this feels,” he sighed, leaning back against the railing so he could feel the sun against his back, warming his skin. Castiel was nodding slowly while adjusting the tie around his neck. It felt familiar to go out into the world dressed in his old coat, jacket, shirt and tie. It felt right. It still felt strange to be wearing the tie again after those few days dressed in clothes that hung loosely but comfortably from him.

   “It is a necessary risk,” Castiel said in a reassuring tone, but Dean still felt it settling deep inside that he would not like the outcome. Maybe it was not coming today, or the next, but sometime soon he could feel something terrible coming. Dean let out a long, slow breath and nodded his head once, pursing his lips briefly.

   “I know. Just… be careful, yeah? Stay close to Gabriel.” Something akin to an amused smile spread across the angel’s face and he rocked his head the other way.

   “I think I can look after myself,” he tried to sound a little agitated, but Dean was surprised to hear his voice dripping with amusement. Castiel was really starting to get a grasp on more human emotions.

   “Yeah, I know. You’re totally awesome. Just zap out of there if you need to, right?” Castiel nodded in understanding and glanced out towards the scrapyard before turning back to the house.

   “Gabriel wishes to leave soon,” he said simply, and Dean knew the conversation was over. He straightened from the railing and headed into the house behind Castiel. Remembering just as they reached the door, he reached out and grabbed the angel’s arm, halting him in his stride. Castiel turned to look at him questioningly.

   “I want you to take this, too. Just in case you get tired and can’t burn those motherfucker’s out,” he said quietly as he offered the demon knife. Castiel eyed it for a moment before taking it, his fingers like a small jolt of electricity as they brushed against Dean’s. He nodded in thanks and slipped it into his coat before turning back to the door and stepping back inside, leaving Dean stood on the porch remembering that surge of energy he had felt. He took a deep inhale of cool October air before heading inside to find Castiel and Gabriel ready to set off, Bobby insisting they take holy water just in case.

   “I’ve seen how you boys keep turning up, just take it,” he growled, shoving it into Castiel’s coat pocket. Castiel looked exasperated, but did not bother to argue any further.

   “Thank you, Bobby,” Gabriel sighed, his blade sliding into his hand as he looked to Castiel. The younger angel had done the same, the blade gleaming in the light of the kitchen as his gaze ticked over towards Dean. “Ready, bro?” Castiel nodded once and Dean saw his wings stretch out beside Gabriel’s, that appeared to have healed remarkably well. A dark shadow against a golden shimmer, but Dean was still drawn to Castiel’s. Despite the intimidating presence of Gabriel’s six wings, Castiel had his own, subtle and yet humbling presence, something that never seemed to fail to send a shiver down Dean’s spine. “Alright, we’ll be back tomorrow morning at the latest. Don’t wait up.” Gabriel winked and with the flap of wings and a small draught they were gone, and suddenly the kitchen felt incredibly empty. Dean exhaled long and low and watched as Bobby returned to the library to continue his research. He was tracking demon and possible angel activity with a terrifying precision and had a map drawn out with all their hotspots. Gabriel and Castiel were heading to one to see what was happening. Sam moved to sit at the kitchen table where he had spread out several books to work from, and that was when something caught Dean’s eye. It was a shimmer of gold hanging from a leather cord. It was a feather, Dean noticed as he sat down beside Sam, and it was elegant and gold in colour, catching the light at every angle. It was attached to a silver bead to hold it in place and hang it from the cord around Sam’s neck, and Dean had to say it was one of the most beautiful things he had seen, other than Castiel’s feathers. And he knew that was no ordinary feather around Sam’s neck.

   “Where’d that come from?” He asked casually, pulling a book over to study the pages. Sam glanced down at the feather hanging against his chest and shrugged lightly.

   “Gabriel gave it to me. He said it’d mean he could find us wherever we are, just in case we go ‘bumbling into trouble’. Apparently he made it himself,” he said with a small chuckle, as if he did not believe it. Dean eyed up the feather again, and could almost place where exactly it was from on Gabriel’s wing. Most likely from his second set, judging by the size of it, and from somewhere in the middle between the downy feathers on the bone and the elegantly long flight feathers.

   “I’m sure he did,” he muttered quietly, drawing a curious gaze from Sam that he chose to ignore as he looked down again at the writing on the page. None of it was sinking in.

   “You think he actually did? I thought he just picked it up from somewhere. He said it was some random bird of paradise feather, picked this up when he dropped into Australia.” He took the feather between his fingers and seemed to study it a closely for the first time. “Australia does have some strange birds.” Dean snorted and shook his head, flicking the page to come face to face with a picture of a Hell Hound, exactly what he wanted to see after a night full of images of Hell. He flicked the page again and settled down to read the information in front of him.

   “It’s certainly from a strange bird,” he murmured, and he could almost feel Sam throwing his best bitch face right in his direction. He lifted his eyes to look at his brother and put on an obviously forced smile. “Oh, Sammy, you are going to have such a nerdgasm.”

   “Where’s it from? You know, don’t you?” Sam seemed to have forgotten his reading, leaning over the book to invade Dean’s space. Dean could not believe his nerd of a brother had not worked it out already. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, looking at the feather again. He had to admit Gabriel had nice wings, but they hardly compared to his angel’s smoky perfection.

   “It’s his,” he said simply, lifting his eyes to meet Sam’s. His little brother laughed at first, as if it were the best joke in the century, before he caught the serious look on Dean’s face. His face fell and he looked at the trinket once more, running the soft feather between his fingers a few times.

   “How… how do you know? I mean… angel’s don’t actually have wings,” he replied quietly, starting to look at that mundane feather around his neck with a new state of awe. Dean laughed calmly and shook his head, resting his elbow on the back of his chair as he turned to face Sam.

   “Yeah I didn’t get it at first. Gabriel has six, actually.” Sam’s eyes widened and he looked up again, fingers still clasping the feather. He was in full nerd mode now, Dean could just see it.

   “Six? How do you know that?” Dean shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips.

   “I saw them. In a way, anyway. I can only just see his.” Sam’s eyes narrowed at those words and Dean narrowed his in return.

   “And Cas? Can you see his?” Sam released the feather and it floated serenely back towards his chest, as if the laws of physics really did not apply to it. Dean felt his cheeks flush gently and he turned back to his book.

   “I can see them better. Most of the time, actually.” He could feel those silently judging eyes burning into the side of his head but he kept his gaze down, eyes scanning blindly over the words on the page.

   “How?” Dean felt his heart jar for a moment in his chest, images of those dusky grey wings floating into his mind. He suddenly wished he had held up his idea of checking on them that morning. He missed the feel of those feathers like a breeze against his fingers. He sounded like such a woman. “Dean?” Dean did not look up. If he looked up he might come gushing out with the most insanely female thing he has ever said in his entire life, right in front of his brother.

   “I’ve seen them. Like… actually seen them, okay? That night he appeared in the motel room, I kinda accidentally discovered them.” Dean hoped it would end at that, but Sam had rocked forwards again and was irritatingly close.

   “What are they like?”

   “That’s none of your God damned business, Sam,” Dean growled, finally lifting his gaze. Castiel was protective of his wings, they were an incredibly personal aspect, and he felt dirty enough divulging the fact that angels did in fact have wings. Sam raised an eyebrow and moved back a little, raising a hand in a small sign of surrender. Dean felt guilty immediately. “Look, I’m sorry, I had a rough night.” He pushed a hand over his face and relished how it refreshed him somewhat. “And angel wings are apparently a pretty personal deal.” Sam was silent for a moment before he spoke again.

   “So… that’s how you can see them? Because you saw his wings back then?” Dean knew that was not the truth. It was because he had been essentially fondling them nearly every day since.

   “I don’t see them, I just see a shadow, and it’s… it’s because I… I touched them, I think.” He suddenly eyed up the feather on Sam’s neck and wondered if his brother would have a similar perception of angel wings now.

   “Why the hell did you touch angel wings?” Dean was snapped out of his thought by the question and he met Sam’s gaze for a long moment, mouth open as if he were about to answer. He had promised not to speak of it, and Dean always tried to keep such promises.

   “He’d damaged them somehow, so I patched them up, that’s all.” Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean dreaded what was coming next.

   “That’s all?” Here we go. “Dude, you touched an angel’s wings, and _that’s all_?” So maybe that was not as bad as ‘you didn’t need to patch up angel wings’. Suddenly Sam’s mouth twisted into a grin and he leaned back as if he had just made the best discovery. “That’s what you two were doing in the bathroom.” Dean frowned and straightened up from the book.

   “Dude, what did you _think_ we were doing?” Sam smirked the way that he did whenever he knew Dean was hiding something filthy, or whenever something particularly filthy was running through his mind, and Dean threw a book at him lightly. “You’re sick, seriously.” Sam laughed and placed the book on the table again, turning back to his work.

   “I think it’s adorable,” he mused quietly after a few minutes of silence.

   “Shut up.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Feathers and trips to Italy,” Bobby grunted as he went back to his work. “Sounds like a damn movie.”

Castiel had to say it felt good to stretch his wings after so long sitting around Bobby’s and being in the Impala. He travelled with Gabriel to a few hotspots across the country, most of which appeared to be empty now. They finally ended up at a warehouse on the outskirts of Boston, disused and seemingly empty, its windows broken and grass growing tall all around its foundations. Castiel looked to Gabriel, who was surveying the area with keen eyes, folding his wings down against his back carefully. “How wonderfully quiet,” he muttered as he narrowed his eyes. Castiel looked towards the warehouse and nodded, feeling a chill run down his spine. This hardly looked like a place where something major was happening. There were no guards, or any other signs of life. “Let’s check out inside.” Gabriel stretched out his wings once more and vanished, Castiel on his tail immediately.

   The inside of the warehouse was dusty and empty, just the same as the outside. Boxes were stacked high, abandoned and disused, and the confinement they created only made Castiel even more nervous. His feathers bristled and he rested the hand on the blade in his pocket for reassurance as he walked beside Gabriel through the warehouse. “This doesn’t feel right,” Castiel murmured under his breath, and Gabriel nodded in agreement. He cast his eyes around and then stopped to listen carefully. Castiel stopped too, but for a different reason. He could smell it on the air, and it stung at the back of his throat. The faint smell of sulphur was getting stronger. He growled and Gabriel sank lower, moving to press his back to Castiel’s. “An ambush?” He looked up to the rafters above them before scanning the shadows around them with his sharp eyes. The boxes created deep shadows from the light that entered through the windows on the roof, and it was difficult to see anything within them. Gabriel was holding his blade, just in case, and scanning the other half of the warehouse as best as possible.

   “How do they expect to ambush two angels?” he hissed and Castiel shook his head. Maybe they had been expecting more company in the form of the Winchesters. There was a clatter to his right and he turned his head in that direction and felt the cool metal of his own blade appear in his palm. He was really not comfortable with this. He could smell the demons and he simply knew they were surrounded, but this was not what he had been expecting. It was highlighted as the centre of a demon hot spot, and they had assumed something important was in the middle of it. Castiel’s heart suddenly dropped. They were all traps. Every hot spot was a trap, and Dean and Sam were due to check one out closer to home, to scope it out and see what was happening. Gabriel seemed to have reached the same conclusion, stretching his wings out ready to vanish. Nothing happened. The two angels looked at each other, both feeling the force that was tying them to the building. Castiel suddenly felt incredibly stupid, and in the same very angry. How could he have sent the brothers into a trap?

   They were surrounded and the stench was incredible. Castiel would have gagged had he not been nearly completely angel again. “Well, little bro, I guess we’re doing this the hard way,” Gabriel sighed and Castiel had to smile.

   “Sometimes the hard way is good stress relief,” he mused as he heard a shuffling nearby and squared up to it slightly. Gabriel barked a laugh and shook himself out.

   “Humanity has really changed you. I like it. I’ll take this half.” Castiel nodded and stepped away from Gabriel, folding his wings down tight and catching sight of the nearest demon. They were hiding in the shadows but they were now close enough to see. Suddenly a demon went flying over his head, tossed by the flick of a wrist from Gabriel, and crashed into the wall of demons that was approaching like a bowling ball. It was all the excuse they needed to lunge forwards at the two angels, and Castiel was certainly ready. He swapped his angel blade for the knife Dean had insisted he took. Suddenly he wished Dean had kept it. He met the first wave of demons with his palm and swift cuts with the blade. The demons burned out in bright white light as he took them out with his hand, and in a dull flash as the blade made contact with them. It really was satisfying, but with each angelic kill he felt a little bit of his strength leave him. Gabriel was having a blast, literally, as he sent demons flying in every direction with creative little explosions. He caught the odd stray with his hands and burned them out in an instant before casting them aside. The demons were becoming furious, swarming around the pair, but Gabriel’s controlled explosions kept them at bay long enough to make it a little easier for Castiel to cut his way through. He resorted to using the knife completely, feeling his energy dwindling again, and moved from one demon to the next as they came one after the other.

   “We need to get to the boys,” Castiel called over the furious snarls and screams of the demons. Gabriel sent a demon flying into a pile of boxes and nodded, pressing back against Castiel again.

   “Agreed. They haven’t reached the hotspot yet, we can cut them off.” He took out two demons on either side of him with his hands and then grabbed Castiel’s coat. “Get to the exit, we can fly to them as soon as we’re outside.” Castiel nodded and started to move, sinking the blade into the nearest demon and beginning to cut a path towards the door. The amount of demons in the warehouse was ridiculous, but he could just make out the light of the exit through the shadows. Gabriel was right behind him, grumbling under his breath that this would all be solved so quickly if he could just flash his true form. Whatever the demons had done to the warehouse both stopped them flying and leaving their vessels, but somehow their powers were intact. Castiel managed to fish out the bottle of holy water in his pocket in between cutting down the demons and used it to push them back further, silently thanking Bobby for forcing it onto him as the demons recoiled from the burning sensation of the water.

   The demons became more irritating than anything else as they made their way through the clawing and the snarling and the vessels constantly throwing themselves towards them. Gabriel tried to push them back with small explosions as Castiel span and ducked and dodged between the demons with the blade. The going was slow and agonising, but they finally reached the door and burst out into the fresh air. After the stench of the warehouse that reminded Castiel all too much of Hell, the cold air outside was a welcome relief to him. The demons spilled out after them, but suddenly Gabriel’s hand was on his arm and there was the bright, overpowering light of his true form and the shrieking of demons and then they were flying. Castiel realised now how disorienting it was to be grabbed by an angel and dragged somewhere else as he suddenly found himself in the backseat of the Impala, which swerved violently as Dean caught sight of them in the rear view mirror. “Jesus! Don’t you guys call ahead?” He bellowed as he gripped the steering wheel and righted the car. Castiel tried to gather his breath but he could not, burying his face in his hands and trying to get some air into his lungs.

   “It was an emergency,” Gabriel snapped as he placed a hand to Castiel’s back. He felt the energy wash over him, felt his lungs fill up and his heart rate lower. The next thing he was aware of was how awful he felt, and a sickening feeling in his chest.

   “Cas? Cas, what happened?” Dean looked in the mirror again, his voice full of worry as Castiel’s head fell back against the seat and he gasped for air. Gabriel kept his hand to Castiel’s back, trying to get him back to normal.

   “Apparently dragging a drained angel around isn’t a good idea,” he mused as Castiel gripped at the sleeve of his jacket and scrunched his eyes shut. “How peculiar.” Dean put the brakes on and pulled the Impala over, sliding it to a halt before spinning in the seat to face where Castiel was sat behind him.

   “What the hell happened?” Dean paled as he saw the state of the angel, the sweat starting to form on him and the way his chest rose and fell in a forced manner. Castiel heard the car door open and the vehicle rock as Dean leapt out before wrenching the back door open. Castiel wanted to open his eyes but they were burning, so all he could do was grab onto Dean as he felt the man beside him. He had no idea what was happening, all he could see was light and all he could feel was a burning sensation throughout his body.

   “It was a trap, they’re all traps,” he heard Gabriel explain as he felt another hand on his forehead. He knew from the warmth and energy of it that it was Gabriel, but the one that was pressed to his chest was certainly not Gabriel. “We managed to get out of it before I wiped them all- oh.”

   “Oh?” Castiel tightened his grip on Dean’s jacket as he felt Gabriel press a little firmer on his head.

   “I haven’t shown myself for a long time, I guess it may have had a few unexpected side effects.” Castiel felt a soothing sensation running through him to replace the burning energy that had been running through his veins. His head felt like it was going to explode as all the energy ran up towards Gabriel’s palm. “Sorry, little brother,” he muttered as Castiel finally managed to take a deep breath on his own. “Being reincarnated seems to give you some control issues.” He opened his eyes but everything was blurred. After blinking a few times he could finally see Dean a little clearer, hovering over him with one hand still clutching the blood stained shirt against his chest. Sam was watching with a worried expression from the front passenger seat and Gabriel was leaning over him, finally removing his hand from his forehead.

   “Cas? You okay?” Dean’s voice was heavy and a little wary, but he seemed more reassured as Castiel nodded and loosened his grip a little on Dean’s jacket. He took a few more deep breaths and closed his eyes again.

   “I think I accidentally absorbed some archangel energy,” he said in a trembling voice. He felt Dean’s hand release its grip on his shirt to lay flat on his chest, and he opened his eyes again. “I apologise.”

   “Just glad you’re okay,” Dean sighed before straightening up to look around outside the car. “You say the demon things are traps?” Castiel closed his eyes again and let Gabriel do the explaining as he tried to control the nausea that had taken the place of the pain.

   “Seems that way. I’m guessing they thought you guys would stumble in on one and they’d get you the easy way. They were almost right.”

   “We weren’t going to walk straight in,” Sam piped up from the front of the car. “We were just going to see if there was any activity.”

   “Yeah and they’d have probably jumped us,” Dean sighed, suddenly sounding a lot closer. Castiel opened his eyes for a moment to see that he was crouched down beside the car, eyes focused somewhere up the empty highway they had stopped on.

   “As much as I’d love to just zap us back to your friend’s house, I’m all out of juice here,” Gabriel moaned from beside Castiel as he rocked back in his seat and stretched out. “Chauffeur, home! I’m hungry and bored.”

   “Let’s just give Cas a minute, he looks like he might hurl,” Dean said warily, and Castiel actually smiled at that. Of course Dean was worried about his upholstery.

   “I’m fine,” he managed to say, opening his eyes to see the look of suspicion on Dean’s face.

   “If you throw up in my baby then I’m killing you myself,” he warned as he straightened up again and shut the door. The smile remained on Castiel’s face as he rested his head against the cool glass of the window and closed his eyes. He heard the driver’s door shut and the roar of the Impala’s engine as it struck up again. He vaguely listened to Gabriel and Sam argue lightly about the possible plan of the angels and how the demons were involved, but what he really listened to was the sound of the Impala. It rumbled comfortably through the air, growling as it picked up speed and then settling as it switched through the gears. The rock of the car soothed him and he found himself happy again. He felt utterly awful all over his body, but at least his mind was at peace. He heard Dean humming quietly to himself with the music as his brother argued with the archangel, and he decided to block out every other sound other than Dean and the Impala. Those were the only two things he needed as he fell asleep curled up against the door, and they permeated the darkness of his dreams to leave him in a perfectly peaceful slumber.

~*~

Dean’s head was really starting to hurt as he tried to focus on the books in front of him. They had been back five hours and all they had done was research. Or rather, all he, Sam and Bobby had done was research, and all Gabriel had done was eat and Castiel was simply comatose upstairs in bed. “I’ve got nothing,” Dean finally said into the silent kitchen as he rocked back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with one palm. Gabriel was sat opposite him, eating a trifle with a pensive look on his face.

   “I’ve found something about the Word of God,” Sam muttered in the library. His voice hardly sounded hopeful. “Apparently it can only be read by a prophet, and there are many of them, each with different meanings.”

   “Helpful,” Dean grumbled as he flipped the book in front of him shut and added it to the ‘useless’ pile that was forming to his right. He had gone through the stack Bobby had ordered him to sort through, and there had been nothing of use in any of the dusty old relics.

   “Huh,” Sam huffed and Dean leaned back to peer at his brother.

   “What?”

   “Says here that one of the tablets that state the Word contains information on the gates of Hell.” Dean saw him turn the sheet of yellowed paper over in his hand and raised an eyebrow.

   “Useful?”

   “I’m not sure. I mean, it’s an old sheet of paper, some random stuff about prophets and Hell and… and Lucifer.” Sam rubbed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, and Dean was soon at his side.

   “Headaches getting worse?” Sam nodded and placed the paper down on top of the books at his feet.

   “Yeah, the nightmares, too,” Sam murmured as he fell back onto the sofa and closed his eyes. Dean cast a glance into the kitchen where Gabriel was watching them silently. He was too quiet for Dean’s liking.

   “Maybe you should take a break,” Bobby offered from the desk as he put aside the book he had been studying. “I’m sure Dean can read through your share.” Dean threw his best glare at Bobby, but he had to admit Sam seemed to be feeling pretty rough. Suddenly there was an archangel at his side but he was so used to dicks randomly popping up beside him that he only flinched slightly.

   “A break sounds good, Sammy. I was thinking of heading out and watching the sun rise somewhere that isn’t America,” Gabriel said brightly, grinning down at Sam. Dean narrowed his eyes at the angel. “How about it, kid?” Sam frowned and rolled his head to look at Gabriel.

   “I thought you were out of juice,” he pointed out quietly.

   “I refuelled,” Gabriel insisted with a gentle wave of his hand towards the kitchen that was scattered with various empty food containers.

   “So what, sugar’s like your plutonium?” Dean asked with a small snort. Gabriel scowled at him before offering his hand out to Sam.

   “Your brother is irritating me. Let’s get out of here, I hear Italy is lovely this time of year.” Sam eyed the hand that was offered to him suspiciously for a moment before glancing at Dean, who rolled his eyes.

   “Be back by the morning… or the morning here, anyway.” He watched as Sam nodded and took Gabriel’s hand to pull himself up. “And get out of there at the first sign of trouble.” Gabriel nodded before he stepped closer to Sam and laid a hand on his shoulder. Suddenly they were gone, and Dean felt the urge to kick over the stack of books that was piled up precariously on the floor. If he had not seen what had happened to Gabriel first hand and how much he had suffered, he would never have sent his brother off with him. However, Dean would bet almost anything that the archangel was up to something, and he also had a sickening feeling he was trying to court his little brother. He pushed that feeling aside as something that was certainly not happening and that was totally ridiculous.

   “So that feather, around Sam’s neck,” Bobby piped up from the desk, eyes lifting from his work to peer out at Dean. Dean sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair as he eyed up the books with disgust. He hated reading sometimes.

   “It’s Gabriel’s,” he grumbled before heading into the kitchen for a beer. If he was going to get anywhere with all this then he needed alcohol in his system.

   “Feathers and trips to Italy,” Bobby grunted as he went back to his work. “Sounds like a damn movie.” Dean ignored those words and popped the cap of the cool bottle he had fished out of the fridge. The liquid was cool as it slid down his throat, a welcome refreshment after the day he had had. Driving up and down the highway for no apparent reason and then having a half-dead angel appear on the backseat of the car had been enough, and then it had been topped off by the insistence from Bobby that they dive deeper into the research. All the old hunter had done was watch and read the news, updating his map and trying to figure out what the hell was happening. Dean decided now was a good time to take a break, so he could drink his beer in peace and try his hardest not to wonder why Gabriel was dragging his brother around the world.

   Dean stepped out into the cool evening air with another two beers to enjoy. The sun was setting and the sky over the scrap yard was turning a deep purple. After being stuck inside the house for so long, it was nice to take a deep breath and feel the chilled air sting at his lungs. He placed the two unopened beers on the floor and leaned against the railing to watch a small colony of bats swooping over the twisted metal of the cars. Dean could just hear the high-pitched chirps of their calls. He pressed the mouth of the open bottle to his lips and savoured the alcohol as it travelled through him. It was a shame really that Sam was not there to enjoy a few beers with him. It had been a long time since they had simply spent time together, enjoying the more basic things in life. The sun sank lower as Dean made his way through his first bottle, and the air was becoming cooler with the approaching darkness.

   The first bottle was just finished as the door to the house opened. Dean turned his head to see Castiel standing behind him, hair ruffled and eyes still full of sleep. He had been put to bed fully clothed apart from his coat and jacket, and so his shirt was crumpled and his tie was askew. “Well look, it’s sleeping beauty,” Dean chuckled as he looked back out over the scrap yard and Castiel moved to his side to join him. Castiel did not say a word, resting his forearms on the railing and letting his hands hang loose. Dean leaned down to get another bottle, taking the cap off it easily before taking a few small gulps and relaxing beside the angel. “Feel any better?” He felt those blue eyes turn to him but did not meet the gaze, watching as a bat shot past in front of them.

   “Much,” Castiel said gruffly. He always seemed a little more irritated and rough around the edges just after he had woken up, and Dean found that possibly a little more amusing than he should have. “Where is Gabriel? And your brother?” Dean snorted something that was almost a laugh and took a long drink from his bottle.

   “Italy,” he sighed, finally looking towards the angel. He had regained some of the colour in his face and, despite being somewhat tired, his eyes were clear of any signs of pain. He was frowning, that look of confusion on his face.

   “Why?” His head cocked to one side and Dean had to smile at that. It was like a bird trying to comprehend something, and it was completely adorable.

   “I’m hoping it’s just to admire the scenery.” Castiel’s head only tilted even further at that and his frown deepened.

   “What else would they be doing?” Dean stared at him for a long moment, at the genuine confusion in his face, and could not help his smile broadening into a grin despite the idea of his brother getting all romantic in Italy with an archangel. He clapped a hand to Castiel’s shoulder and laughed.

   “Cas, you have so much to learn,” he chuckled as he moved away and took another sip of beer. Castiel turned so he was resting with his back against the railing, arms spread out to either side to grip the wood lightly. The frown disappeared from his face as he seemed to get some small realisation, and then it simply reappeared again.

   “Why would they be doing that?” Dean choked slightly on his drink coughed before barking out a laugh. He really did not want to think why they would be doing that.

   “I don’t know, I really don’t,” he sighed, eyes following the bats again as they circled around. He watched them for a few minutes as a comfortable silence fell between them, but he knew Castiel was watching him, as always. He rested a hand on the railing not far from Castiel’s own and took in another deep breath before looking at the angel. Sure enough, those pale blue eyes were fixed on him, and he felt a familiar twist in his gut at the sight of them. “You sleep okay?” he asked quietly. Castiel offered one of his rare smiles that were becoming increasingly common and nodded.

   “Yes. Although I remember falling asleep in the Impala and then waking up in a bed,” he mused quietly and Dean shrugged softly.

   “I didn’t want to wake you.” He really had not wanted to disturb him. Castiel had looked so peaceful and relaxed and had barely fretted at all on the journey back. Dean had simply lifted him out the car and got him inside with a little help from Sam. “I figured you could do with the rest after what you went through.” Castiel’s smile faltered and he looked down at his feet. Today had been another horrible day for him. He had not recovered fully, and then he had foolishly gone into a fight that was far too great for his abilities. He had also nearly sent Dean and Sam straight into a trap.

   “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, so quietly that Dean took a moment to process what had just been said.

   “Sorry?” Castiel nodded, letting out a long breath. “Sorry for what?” Dean was having a hard time figuring out exactly what the angel had to be sorry for.

   “I almost sent you into a trap where you could have been hurt… or…” He trailed off and Dean moved a little closer, moving his hand to rest on the railing between where Castiel’s own hand was placed and where his back rested back against the support.

   “Or what?” Dean rested a little weight against his arm and set his best stare on the angel. He never liked it when Castiel was not making creepy eye contact. The angel shifted uneasily before looking Dean in the eye, a pained expression crossing his face for a brief moment before he settled for tired and depressed-looking.

   “You could have been killed. I should not have made any decisions in my condition.” Neither of the angels should have made any decisions. Gabriel had been through something very similar, and, despite recovering quicker with his abilities, he still seemed like a completely different creature.

   “Hey, Cas, you didn’t know,” Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his hand against his eyes, bottle still in hand. “Besides, you got there in time, nothing bad happened. At least not to us. You sure you feel fine?” Castiel nodded silently and closed his eyes, and Dean could hardly believe just how tired the angel looked. He was getting fed up of seeing him this way, day after day. He was a far cry from the majestic being that had smashed every lightbulb in an abandoned shed and caused a small storm. And yet Castiel was a new being altogether. It struck Dean then how utterly human the angel was at that point in time. He was all ruffled from sleep and Dean thought that was just beautiful, if you ignored the blood stains that were still on his shirt, and on the pale skin of his slender neck. His collar was open slightly, revealing the shadow of a prominent collarbone and the start of dark chest hair. Dean tore his eyes away from the exposed flesh that was illuminated gently by the setting sun only to meet the pools of blue that were staring straight at him. He had no idea how long he had been essentially eyeing up the angel, and suddenly he really did not care.

   “Dean?” He froze, gaze locked with the angel, and suddenly he had no idea what was happening. “Is there something wrong?” That look of confusion was all over his face again and that really did not help Dean in the slightest, because he just thought that was _adorable_ and that was not what one man thought about another.

   “I don’t think so,” he said hoarsely, and yet he could not tear his eyes away. He was turning into a woman. Suddenly Castiel’s hand was against his forehead and Dean felt all the air leave his lungs at the warmth and sureness of the touch.

   “Your heart is beating fast,” the angel said simply. “But you don’t have a fever.” The palm left his skin and Dean felt his stomach jolt. He felt cold all of a sudden, as if that touch had been all the warmth in the world. Somehow he was closer now than ever to Castiel, and he could see the way the last golden rays of the sun illuminated his blue eyes and made his skin glow softly. He could also see the smoky grey feathers gleaming in the light in their own way in the corner of his eye, and it was all too much for him. He took in a deep breath and forced himself away, taking a long drink to try and slow his heart down. Castiel remained where he was, watching curiously, calm as ever. “Are you in distress?” He asked quietly, and Dean honestly did not know the answer to that. A hundred thoughts were racing through his head and multiplying into thousands. Because he had also noticed how soft the angel’s lips looked, how relaxed and open he seemed, and how absolutely beautiful he was at any point.

   “I must be cursed,” he muttered, daring to cast a look towards Castiel. He quirked a brow, reminding Dean of how far he had come since he had been that solider of the Lord.

   “Cursed? Why?” Dean laughed and looked at the half empty bottle in his hand. He got the feeling he was going to need more beer tonight.

   “I’m not thinking straight.” In fact he was thinking incredibly gay. Dean had had his fair share of gay moments, of noticing that another man was attractive, but never had it twisted his gut into painful little knots. Never before had a steady gaze from a blood-stained angel sent his mind reeling like a teenage girl.

   “Dean,” Castiel started slowly, shifting his weight on his legs. “There’s no possible way you could have been cursed.” Those were not words Dean wanted to hear. Maybe he had been drugged, or maybe there was some weird witch’s magic at work. He patted his pockets with his empty hand to check for anything that could have been put on him, but there was nothing. Castiel was silent. “What’s wrong?” He asked after a few moments of Dean searching every pocket. Dean sighed and looked back to the angel. He wanted to convince himself he was cursed, that some evil spell was upon him, and yet he barely believed it himself. Why he had come to this realisation now was beyond him, the realisation that he wanted to reach out and touch that soft skin on the angel’s neck and press their lips together. Maybe it was the way he was bathed in golden light, or how calm he seemed, or how he actually seemed happy instead of deadly serious for once. Dean moved a little closer, feeling his heart pound harder against his chest. Castiel did not move, only held Dean’s gaze with his own. Dean dared to move closer again, until he was back where he had been earlier, right in front of the angel with his hand pressed nervously against the railing. He took a steadying breath and forced himself to hold the gaze, biting his lip for a moment.

   “I’m not in my right mind,” he muttered quietly, and his stomach twisted as Castiel did that perfect little head tilt again, a smile tugging at his lips.

   “You’re fine,” he insisted in an equally hushed tone. Dean stared at him for a moment and the angel’s smile broadened. It struck Dean then that Castiel was cheating.

   “Dude, you’re in my head,” he growled softly, and Castiel only grinned.

   “You think very loudly. I heard my name.” Dean narrowed his eyes for a moment but that grin was infectious and so fresh, and he soon found a smile creeping onto his own face. This had to be one of the gayest moments in his life and he really hardly cared. He smiled wider as he rocked a little closer to the angel.

   “What am I thinking?” He pushed the dirtiest thought possible to the front of his mind and watched as the grin faded into mild horror on the angel’s face. It was very much like the terror he had displayed in the den of iniquity. Castiel opened his mouth to say something, lips parting perfectly, and Dean could not possibly hold back any more. He leaned down and pressed his lips gently against Castiel’s, pleased when the angel leaned up into him and returned the kiss gently. Dean moved a leg between the angel’s so he was stood in front of him, one hand either side of him with his half-empty bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. Castiel hummed gently into the kiss and Dean felt a hand tangle in the short hair at the back of his head, sending a shiver straight down his spine. He moaned gently, Castiel taking full advantage of the slight parting of his lips and teasing his mouth open further with his tongue. All Dean could do was meet his tongue with his own and take in the taste of the angel. He tasted unlike anything Dean had ever experienced before, a mixture of the coffee he had drank that morning, still faintly present because Castiel kept forgetting to eat or drink anything, and something Dean really could not place. It reminded him of spring air, fresh and clean. He wanted to taste it as much as possible, deepening the kiss as he pressed his hips forwards against the angel’s. Dean could never have imagined that the gentle rub of stubble against his skin and a flat chest pressing up against his own would be such a turn on, and yet it was. His empty hand went to Castiel’s hip, sliding up under his shirt to press against the warm, soft skin underneath. Castiel rocked up to him, pressing himself up against Dean with a new enthusiasm. Dean drew in a deep breath through his nose and pushed Castiel back against the railing. Castiel was apparently not one to be dominated as he pushed right back against him. Dean was about as stubborn, however, and used the force of his hips to hold him back against the railing. The angel made a deep growling noise at the back of his throat that Dean swore went straight to his groin, and he could not help but gasp and break the kiss, resting his forehead against Castiel’s. “Cas… I…” Castiel grinned again, almost serenely and a far cry from that animalistic groan that had just escaped him, and slid his long fingers through Dean’s hair, his eyes partially closed.

   “I know,” he murmured, and Dean let out a long breath. “No rush.” For an angel who had, until recently, had no concept of human emotions, Castiel was taking this all in his stride, and he certainly had a talent with his mouth. He reached one arm across to take the bottle from Dean’s hand, fingers grazing together for a few seconds. Dean watched as the angel pressed the bottle to his mouth and took a few long gulps, and the sight of it was so erotic Dean had no idea if he was doing it on purpose or if Castiel was actually this attractive all the time and he had just never noticed.

   “I think I need a cold shower,” he murmured, letting a thumb trail across the skin where his hand still rested on Castiel’s hip. The angel quirked a brow and offered the bottle back, and Dean finished it in one go. He returned his gaze to that steady blue stare for a few more minutes before smiling and pressing a gentle kiss to the angel’s forehead. _His_ angel. Dean was stepping on dangerous territory, he knew that. Not only had he just questioned his whole sexuality, but he had also kissed his best friend. It was a recipe for disaster. Nothing was ever so simple in Dean’s life as love, because love for him always came with death, abandonment and pain. However, with Castiel, he hoped it was more than just a quick crush, a fleeting fancy or a quick test of his sexuality. He hoped it was more because Castiel was more than anything he had ever had in his life. Castiel had seen him at his worst, with a knife in his hand standing over the soul of a child. Castiel had seen him carve people up. Castiel knew every filthy little secret in Dean’s brain because he had been in there, and he had not recoiled from what he had seen. No one had never really accepted everything about him, and yet those soft blue eyes staring at him now were full of acceptance, and Dean so dearly wanted to believe that he could have that. That he could be happy. He felt Castiel’s fingers trail down his neck to his shoulder and he let out a long breath. Oh how he really wanted to be happy. He closed his eyes as he let those fingers trail down over his shoulder and come to rest on his chest, and he wondered when exactly his angel had become so in tune with how to behave around humans. It was one of the most intimate moments of his life and it was coming from a creature that had been devoid of free will and had no concept of human emotion. Castiel was changing, and Dean thought he liked it. He opened his eyes to find that Castiel was still studying him with those large, soft eyes. This was definitely the gayest moment of his life, topping off the time he accidentally touched another man’s penis after gym class. He smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to Castiel’s lips, enjoying the way his angel instinctively moved against him again, as if being close was the only thing that mattered. Dean reluctantly pulled away and moved back from where he had been pushing Castiel back against the railing. “Let’s go inside,” he muttered and Castiel nodded before straightening up from where he had been leaning. Dean collected his final unopened beer before leading the way inside, trying to settle the raging erection that was pressing tight against his jeans, with the knowledge that Bobby was still sat in the library studying all his information. Castiel was right behind him, and it took everything Dean had not to turn around and shove him up against a wall. He guessed he really did have no problem with getting off with another guy, even though really Castiel was not just a guy. He cast a glance back to the smug looking angel, who still seemed to be tuned into Dean’s thoughts, before placing the beer back in the fridge and heading upstairs to get that cold shower. The tightness in his jeans simply would not go away.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something about Dean made it impossible to stay away, and Castiel had not understood it at first. Now he understood it perfectly. He loved this man with every fibre of his being.

It had hit Dean like a freight train to the gut and he had no idea where it had come from. He had kissed Castiel because it had seemed right, but he had no idea why it had seemed so right in the first place. The feeling that he just wanted to be close to the angel had come on so suddenly that he thought it was witchcraft, but as he lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling he could recall every moment with Castiel. All those times the angel had stood too close, all the staring contests, and all the times Castiel had genuinely made Dean laugh. At first Castiel had been a faceless soldier, a creature with no free will, and now he was full of character and emotion. Castiel had reshaped himself, and Dean could not imagine a world without him. He sighed and slowly sat up, his tired brain protesting at the movement. Things had gone back to normal after they had kissed and Dean could not help but find that mildly disappointing, and yet it was his own fault. He could not show in front of Bobby that he was a massive woman, that he was having the biggest chick flick moment of his life and had absolutely no regrets. He knew in his head that his father would have been disappointed, that it went against every moral he had, and he could not shake the feeling that it would be the same with Bobby. Castiel seemed to understand, keeping his distance and helping with the research. An angel’s eyes deciphered information much more easily, and in a completely different way, and Castiel thought he was close to discovering the plan of the angels, the whole plan. Dean had disappeared up to bed early, fed up of trying to keep his hands off the angel and wanting to just lie down and think for a while. He had heard Castiel come upstairs to shower, and could still hear the patter of the water. He tried not to think of the angel all wet and naked, deciding that he had had enough homoerotic thoughts for today.

   Dean moved to sit on the edge bed and remove his boots, feet relieved to be free from a day of being confined. He tossed the boots into the corner and stood from the bed, deciding to try for a good night’s sleep for once. He pulled off his shirt and the t-shirt beneath it, the chilled air fresh against his skin. Without Gabriel heating the house up it was as cold as it normally was in the autumn. Dean sighed and tossed his shirts aside, stretching his arms up above his head and enjoying the gentle crack of his spine as he flexed. He was just about to simply fall on the bed and close his eyes when the bedroom door swung open, the pale light from the landing flooding in through the opening. Castiel was dressed in a pair of jogging bottoms that were too big for him and that scruffy old t-shirt Dean had given him, a shirt he now preferred on Castiel and had no wish to get back. His hair was damp and moisture glistened on his collarbone and Dean decided that he loved how the angel looked when he was fresh from a shower. Castiel offered a small smile and shut the door, tossing the damp towel onto the bed and moving as if he were about to join it. Dean caught his arm, halting him and drawing him a little closer. Castiel looked up at him with a wary gaze and turned his body to face him. Dean smiled and stepped right into the angel’s space, bringing a hand to rest on Castiel’s hip. “So, about earlier,” Dean murmured, his other hand still gripping Castiel’s forearm lightly. Castiel tilted his head a little and a smile was tugging as his lips as he let Dean draw him in closer. His breath smelled like mint now and Dean just wanted to take it in and taste it. He had no idea what he was doing, or where this was going, he just knew he wanted it. Castiel brought up a hand to run over Dean’s chest and the hunter sucked in a breath and closed his eyes at the touch against his skin. It was like a thousand little shocks of electricity shooting through every nerve. It felt amazing, and nothing like he had ever expected another man’s touch to feel like. Then again, Castiel was far more than just a man, and Dean was reminded of that time and time again lately. “I’d like to try it again,” he managed to say, feeling his stomach tie itself in knots again. Castiel’s other hand had found its way to his neck, fingers buried into his hair gently, and Dean could see the curious look in Castiel’s eyes. He thought he was about to be rejected, was sure that Castiel was not ready for this, but then the angel rocked forwards and pressed himself up against Dean, using his hand to pull Dean down into a deep kiss. Dean’s mind went blank in an instant and all he could taste was mint and all he could smell was clean skin and some non-descript shampoo. It felt like he had just fallen right into Heaven.

   For so long Castiel had wondered at the back of his mind. The angel often contemplated things, in his whole existence he had followed God’s orders and never really questioned them, and yet Castiel had also been one of those angels who took time out to think. He thought about many things during his time, including how utterly peculiar humans were at times. He had never really understood how humans worked, but then he had been thrown into humanity. His orders had been to drag Dean from Hell before he broke the seal, but he knew as he struggled on through that writhing pit that he was too late. He felt it in his grace when the seal was broken, and yet he continued to fight on. Something so utterly beautiful was hidden amongst all that rotting, burning flesh and the endless screams of the damned. He had found Dean at his lowest point, as he cut into child under orders, and yet he had not recoiled. He knew Dean was more than that. He had laid a hand upon him and he knew then. He knew in an instant that this man was different. He dragged Dean from the pit and pieced him back together, and he watched this beautiful soul try to deal with the suffering Hell had brought upon him, and made him inflict upon others.

   Castiel had watched from afar, and yet he felt drawn in. Something about Dean made it impossible to stay away, and Castiel had not understood it at first. Now he understood it perfectly. He loved this man with every fibre of his being. The only way he could react to such a human emotion was in a very human way, and he was suddenly very glad that he had taken the time recently to study human behaviour in such circumstances otherwise he would have been utterly lost when Dean pulled him even closer, both arms wrapped tightly around him, and walked them both towards his bed. He removed Castiel’s shirt easily, only breaking the kiss for a moment before returning as if he had been gone a year, tongue delving hungrily into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel moaned against him and felt his legs hit the edge of the bed.

   Castiel may have been new to all this, but he was more than willing to take back a little bit of control. He pushed back against Dean and turned the situation around, pushing Dean down onto the bed first instead, Castiel landing on top of him. He heard Dean growl, felt his chest rumble with it, and then he felt hands sliding up his bare back towards his shoulders. Castiel gasped and broke the kiss to bury his face against Dean’s neck, arching his back against the touch that climbed towards his shoulder blades. Dean was certainly playing dirty. His wings spread wide, reaching up towards the ceiling until he felt his feathers brush against it. Dean’s hands were already amongst the feathers, burying his fingers deep as he trailed kisses across Castiel’s shoulder.

   Castiel could barely think. The fingers buried in his wings felt astronomically good and all he could do was moan against the skin of Dean’s neck and try his best to remember to breathe. The scent of gunpowder and whiskey was ever present with Dean, and Castiel’s senses drank it in as he drew in a gasp of air. Dean’s fingers were merciless, massaging his feathers with great ease and delicacy and sending shivers of pleasure straight through Castiel. He decided to return the favour, pressing kisses to the skin of his neck and shoulder as he ran a hand across Dean’s firm chest, trailing his fingers lower and lower across his abdomen and towards the waistline of his jeans. Castiel’s legs were tangled with Dean’s and he could feel the man’s blatant arousal pressing against his hip. Dean tugged lightly on the flight feathers nearest to his shoulder and he gasped in a breath and bucked his hips down against Dean’s. He pressed a palm against the hardness in Dean’s jeans and grinned as he moaned out loud and arched his back off the bed. Two could be torturous.

   Castiel decided to see what noises he could drag from the man beneath him without even unfastening his jeans, and he had to say he was not disappointed. As he slid his hand over the throbbing arousal he heard Dean moan louder, his fingers gripping tightly at Castiel’s wings as he pushed his hips up against the pressure of the hand that was tormenting him. Castiel continued to rub his hand over the hardness, face buried against Dean’s neck as he kissed and bit lightly at the soft skin there. He felt Dean’s chest rise and fall with a sharp gasp, heard a low whine that was something Castiel had never heard from the man before.

   “Cas, you son of a-” his sentence was cut short as he hissed in pleasure and arched up again, trying to push his hips against Castiel’s. The angel was having none of it, pushing his hips down forcefully but gently with his hand and pressing him down into the bed. “Shit,” Dean gasped and wrapped one arm tightly around Castiel’s torso, his free hand gripping a wing roughly. Castiel groaned against the skin of Dean’s chest and moved his fingers to unfasten the belt around Dean’s waist. Being one-handed at that point with his other hand supporting his weight made it almost impossible to unfasten the buckle, but Dean soon offered help eagerly, hands loosening the belt with ease before returning to his wings.

   Castiel groaned and pressed a deep kiss to Dean’s lips, popping the button on his jeans easily. Dean tasted of whiskey and the salty tang of the bacon he had eaten not long ago, and Castiel took it all in hungrily as he slid his tongue over the roof of Dean’s mouth and caused him to buck up against his palm. He could feel Dean throbbing beneath his hand, could feel his breaths coming out shorter and sharper and his fingers trailing through the feathers of his wings. Castiel felt a hand trail down his spine and slip under the waistband of his pants, the warmth of the palm against his rear making his moan against Dean’s mouth and press his own hips down against Dean’s.

   He was heavily aroused, almost to the point of pain, and yet it felt so good. He brought his wings down, deciding to play dirty with his extra limbs, and trailed the feathers along the skin on Dean’s sides. The reaction was perfect as Dean cried out and broke the kiss to tilt his head back, mouth open as he gasped for air. “Fuck, Cas, fu-“ he was cut short by a groan ripping through him as Castiel kissed the sensitive skin behind his ear and trailed feathers all the way up Dean’s body. He felt a tight tug against his feathers as Dean clung to him, pushing his hips right up against Castiel’s as his whole body shuddered from the sensation of the feathers.

   Castiel was glad that his wings were that flexible, and trailed them back down Dean’s body as he moved with them, pressing kisses down his neck, collarbone and chest. Dean’s hand flew to Castiel’s hair and his fingers tangled with the dark strands as he clung to the sheets with his other hand. Castiel could only say that was a good reaction. He was so engrossed in the way Dean writhed beneath him, the way his chest rose and fell heavily and how the sweat gathered across his collarbone and at the base of his throat as his kisses trailed lower, that he did not hear the footsteps until it was far too late.

   The door suddenly opening made Dean almost leap out of his skin, head snapping to look towards the shadowed figure in the doorway that was too big to be anyone other than Sam. Castiel’s wings thrashed in panic, but Dean’s grip was too tight on them for them to disappear, and so the angel was held fast on top of the other man. “Seriously!” Dean bellowed, looking at the angel on top of him as he buried his face against Dean’s chest, his breath hot against his skin. “Sorry, Cas,” he breathed, letting go of his wings so they could quickly vanish into thin air. Sam was dumbstruck, standing with his hand still on the door handle and his eyes glued to the space Castiel’s wings had recently occupied. He slowly turned his gaze to Dean, who had fixed him with his best ‘what the fuck’ face, and only then did he really pale. “There’s such a thing as knocking,” Dean growled. Despite the predicament, he still rested an arm across Castiel’s back, feeling the pounding heart of the angel against his stomach. Sam faltered for a minute, mouth slightly agape as he fished for words. He frowned and looked between Dean and Castiel, as if he was trying to piece together what was happening. “Sammy, it’s exactly what it looks like. Now why the fuck are you here?” Sam stared at Castiel for a moment, and then looked at Dean.

   “I just came to tell you we’re back. Uhm… Gabriel insulted a guy… in China… and… I’m sorry but what the hell?” Dean raised an eyebrow and Castiel finally seemed to regain himself, pushing himself up onto his arms and looking at Dean. Dean met his gaze and offered a small smile as he went to sit up, sliding a hand down Castiel’s back before the angel moved away to sit at the end of the bed. Dean turned his gaze back to Sam and offered him his best grin.

   “I’m getting in touch with my feminine side,” he said casually, leaning back on his arms. “I thought I’d start by getting off with an angel.” Castiel looked at Dean with a slightly mortified expression but Dean continued grinning. “But I guess now you know to knock before entering.” Sam ran a hand through his hair and glanced over his shoulder.

   “I’m sorry! I wouldn’t have come up, but Bobby said you were definitely still awake.” Dean’s face fell, and it was his turn to look mortified. As far as Bobby had been aware, both he and Castiel had been asleep.

   “Shit,” he muttered and Sam looked almost as horrified as he did.

   “You were never the quietest in bed,” Sam grumbled, clearly recalling Dean’s encounters with attractive women in the next room over at motels. Castiel looked like he wanted to simply disappear, face buried in his hands and fingers tangled in his hair. “I could always tell him you were actually asleep,” Sam offered quietly. Dean shook his head and flopped back down on the bed.

   “No he has superhuman hearing, he knows we’re talking,” he murmured as he pressed a hand to his forehead. “You know what, tell him I was having hot sex with an angel, I don’t care anymore,” he sighed. Sam snorted and nodded, putting a hand back onto the door handle.

    “Well I’m sorry, again.” Dean waved a hand to dismiss it and Sam switched his gaze to Castiel. “Sorry, Cas.” Castiel removed his hands from his face and nodded, offering Sam his best smile. With that, Sam awkwardly left the room and as the door clicked closed Dean growled deeply. He rested his forearm over his eyes and sighed, pretty much all of his arousal being blown out of the window by his little brother. He felt the weight shift on the bed and then a light pressure on his hips. He smiled as hands came to rest against his chest and soft lips were pressed lightly against his own. He wrapped both arms around his angel and sighed into the kiss, welcoming the warmth that was laid on top of him now. The kiss was slow and gentle and Dean thought he could kiss like that forever. Castiel brought a hand up to rest against his cheek and he could not help but lean into that touch, warmth seeping through his veins and overtaking him. Castiel gave Dean one last little kiss before moving to rest his head against his chest, settling down against him happily. He was light thankfully and Dean did not mind in the slightest, lifting one hand to trail lazily through Castiel’s hair. Despite his mood being seriously ruined by his little brother, he was still happy. The warmth radiating from the body on top of him and the relaxed heart rate and breathing of his angel was enough.

~*~

Dean was a little confused when he woke at first. There was another body half on top of his, their legs tangled together and an arm draped over his chest. It took him a few sleep-addled moments to piece it all together, but as soon as he spotted the messy dark hair of the angel it all came back to him. He smiled and trailed a hand down Castiel’s spine, watching the angel’s face scrunch up in protest while his back arched involuntarily. “Dean,” he mumbled quietly, sliding fingers over Dean’s chest as he stirred. He seemed confused as his hands actually moved over skin, and he opened his eyes to look up at Dean. The frown on his face suddenly softened and he opened his mouth as if he were about to say something before closing it again, thinking better of it.

   “Mornin’,” Dean muttered, watching Castiel stare at him as if he hardly understood what was happening. Sleep must have really been disorienting for him. Castiel pushed himself up onto one elbow, not seeming to care how precariously he was balanced on the edge of the single bed, and watched his own fingers run across the muscles of Dean’s stomach.

   “It… wasn’t a dream,” he breathed, turning his gaze back to Dean, who raised an eyebrow in return.

   “What, your dreams are that vivid?” he chuckled. Castiel nodded mutely and then smiled that genuine smile that Dean was really starting to love. “Huh… well hey, I’m real, and last night was real, and my little brother is painfully real.” Castiel actually laughed at that, apparently recovering from his sleep as he moved further onto the bed and in turn further onto Dean. Dean rested an arm around his waist and looked into those stunning blue eyes, instantly feeling the same warmth he had felt the night before. He realised then what Castiel had just said, and implied. “Wait, I’m in your dreams? You have dreams like _that_?” The angel’s cheeks flushed and he looked away before nodding. The angel had only been dreaming for a few days, and already his dreams were about Dean. That filled Dean with a certain amount of pride and he laughed before catching Castiel’s chin in his free hand and turning his face towards him. “And how did last night compare?” Castiel blushed deeper but he still smiled.

   “Better than I imagined,” he said quietly. Dean smirked and leaned up to kiss his angel, still enjoying how responsive he was.

   “Well, just wait until Sammy isn’t around, then,” he murmured. As if right on cue, there was a soft knock at the door. Castiel removed himself from Dean and stood from the bed, beginning the search for the shirt Dean had thrown aside the previous night. Dean got to his feet and went to the door, pulling it open to see Sam leaning against the wall. He nodded a greeting and Sam managed a sheepish smile.

   “Bobby says to get your ass downstairs for breakfast. He thinks he’s onto something and he wants us to go check it out but it’s a day’s drive away,” Sam said quietly, glancing over Dean’s shoulder as Castiel pulled the t-shirt on and appeared beside him.

   “Alright, we’ll be down in a minute,” Dean sighed and Sam nodded before heading back downstairs.

   “Did he say we were driving?” Castiel asked glumly. Dean nodded and the angel sighed before retreating back into the room and picking up the blood-stained shirt he had worn the previous day. It was suddenly clean again and Dean found himself thinking how handy such a skill to clean stains would be.

   Bobby really was onto something. He had discovered that there was apparently a gate to Hell in a small town in Montana. After reading that information, he went back and compared it to his demon hotspots. The best part was it was not on his list of hotspots, which immediately made it all the more believable. Dean had to admit he was impressed. Days of finding absolutely nothing of use and now they had a good idea where things were happening. The town also had an unusual amount of reported missing people, people who had disappeared all over the country had turned up in this town, and had been caught on camera. Gabriel was sure they were all angel vessels, insisting that demons would have just taken any old host around the town, whereas angels needed their specific vessels. It all made sense, but Dean still had that horrible feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong. He thought the worst had passed with Gabriel and Castiel coming into contact with a ridiculous amount of demons, but it was still settled deep in his gut that there was more to come.

   They set off early, Dean dreading the eleven hour drive with his little brother and two incredibly bored angels, and before they were even in the car he knew he was regretting this. Gabriel was already bored and Sam was protesting about having to sit in the back with a whining archangel. “Well you whine just as much and I’d rather have Cas’ face than your ugly mug beside me for eleven hours,” Dean grumbled.

   “C’mon, kid, we can play car games,” Gabriel grinned before climbing into the back of the Impala. Sam clenched his jaw and glared at Dean.

   “Car games, Dean,” he hissed, and Dean only grinned in return.

   “You’ll have a blast.” He clapped a hand to his brother’s shoulder before slipping into the driver’s seat. Castiel had removed himself from all the arguing and was already in the car, watching the condensation form on the window beside him. Dean reached across to rest a hand against Castiel’s thigh for a minute, drawing him out of his thoughts to look across at him. He smiled at Dean and sat up a little straighter as the Impala roared into life and Dean’s hand moved to the steering wheel. As soon as the car was rolling, Gabriel started.

   “So, I spy.”

~*~

Five hours of I Spy and terrible sing-alongs-where-only-Gabriel-sang-along later and Dean had already had enough. Sam was still quietly guessing Gabriel’s rather elaborate sightings, right down to ‘stitches, right there on the seat’ and ‘you see that bit of blue thread right there on Cassie’s collar’. Castiel was quiet, never really being the conversationalist, but Dean still enjoyed his company. He was certainly prettier to look at than Sam and he did not gripe over the choice of music, although Sam still did from the back seat. Travelling across the country with his brother had been tolerable, but when you added a hyperactive and bored archangel to the mix it simply got painful. “Gabriel, I swear to God, if you don’t stop singing I’m going to leave you right here,” Dean growled as the archangel reached fifty-nine bottles of beer. Gabriel gasped dramatically.

   “Oh my, however will I get around without your hunk of metal?” He filled the back of the car with shimmering gold and raised an eyebrow at Dean through the rearview mirror. Dean narrowed his eyes and then glanced across to the angel beside him.

   “You hungry?”He so hoped Castiel said yes. He watched as he cast a glanced towards Gabriel and then looked back to Dean before nodding. Gabriel sighed loudly and sank down in his seat. “You be quiet.”

   “I didn’t say anything,” Gabriel whined. “Why does your boyfriend get to ride in the front, anyway?” Dean rolled his eyes and spotted a sign up ahead for the next town. Relief washed over him at the idea of getting out of the car for a bit and stretching his legs.

   “For the hundredth time, he’s not my boyfriend and he gets to sit in front because he’s not loud and obnoxious or a whiny bitch, and he also isn’t an irritating archangel or a cock-blocking little brother,” Dean growled. Dean was not prepared to call Castiel his boyfriend, however accurate that was, because it made it sound like they were ten-year-olds. They were men, but saying ‘manfriend’ was hardly right. He guessed they were partners, and so he would keep denying the boyfriend thing until someone said it right. Castiel hardly seemed to care at all. He seemed perfectly happy ignoring all the arguing and watching either Dean or the road in silence.

   “I don’t think he’s forgiven you,” Gabriel murmured to Sam, who only shrugged and smirked. Dean so wished Gabriel had no idea what had happened the previous night, but he was an archangel, and he had known exactly what was happening and probably had even known he was sending Sam to his death by letting him go upstairs. Dean was not sure who was the bigger cock-blocker, his brother or the archangel he was totally dating.

   “Sam, make your boyfriend shut up,” Dean called as he swung the car onto the road that led into the next town.

   “He’s not-” Sam started and then decided better of arguing, throwing a heated glare at Gabriel as the angel grinned from ear to ear. “Shut up,” he muttered, and Dean could not tell if that was directed at him or Gabriel or both.

   “It’s like a double date,” Gabriel said, and not for the first time in five hours. Sam kicked his leg lightly and offered up his best bitchface and Dean was ready to intervene in what must have been the fifth backseat fight.

   “Gabriel, you call it that one more time and I’m making sure you never have dates again,” Dean said dangerously, shifting his gaze to Sam in the mirror. “And you can stop kicking him.” Sam pulled possibly the most childish face ever in retaliation but everything settled down again. Dean was glad when they finally pulled up outside a diner and he escaped the confines of the Impala. Driving was such a pleasure when you did not have the most irritating angel riding in the backseat. Sam and Gabriel stormed ahead, saying they had been starving for ages and had about had enough of Dean and Castiel eyeing each other up for the whole trip. Dean watched them go in ahead, joining Castiel on the sidewalk and stretching his arms out above his head. Castiel watched him silently, and Dean was really starting to worry about his quietness. “Cas, you okay?” he asked as his arms dropped back to his side. The angel nodded and looked towards the diner.

   “Yes, I’m fine,” he replied with a sigh. Castiel was never one to speak much, Dean knew that, but after all the smiling he had been doing lately, it was disturbing to see him suddenly looking so distant again.

   “You sure?” He moved a little closer to slide one arm under Castiel’s coat and rest a hand on his waist. Those blue eyes turned up towards him and he felt the angel’s weight press against his hand slightly. Castiel seemed to think for a moment before he spoke.

   “I think I am starting to agree with you. Something doesn’t feel right,” he muttered. Dean felt his gut twist again in agreement and pursed his lips as he nodded.

   “Yeah, it all feels too easy to me. What do you think we’ll find?” He left his hand on Castiel’s hip, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin beneath his shirt. Castiel hardly seemed to mind, in fact he had even moved a little closer and they were getting a few peculiar looks from passersby, as if they had never seen two men together before.

   “I think we’ll find angels,” he said so only Dean could hear him. “I think I know why the demons are co-operating.”

   “What are you thinking?”

   “I think the angels will have no use for the planet when they wipe out what they perceive as sin. They have grasped the concept of free will in the wrong way, and are seeking to sever their ties with humanity. The demons have been promised Earth, most likely as a simple extension to Hell itself, with Lucifer as their king.” Dean took in a deep breath and nodded, rubbing a hand over his face as he gathered his thoughts. He had to agree it seemed the logical reason in a very disturbed way.

   “How did you work it out?” Castiel only smiled and shrugged.

   “I’ve been taking in all the information you’ve found, and it only makes sense. I am an angel too, I understand how they think.” Well Dean’s angel was simply the smartest out there. Maybe he had finally cracked what was happening.

   “Alright, let’s talk about this inside, see what they think.” Dean was about to move away when Castiel grabbed his hand to stop him moving.

   “Dean, they need Sam as a vessel for Lucifer,” his voice was quiet and deadly serious and Dean felt the words settle inside him like a lead weight.

   “I know. We worked that out pretty fast.” Castiel nodded but still did not let go. His face was grim as he built up the courage to say what he had feared from the start.

   “They don’t need you at all. In fact… I fear they want you out of the way. You got in the way of Lucifer before; I highly doubt they’ll let it happen again.” Dean swallowed hard and nodded tightly at the words. The angels were putting a new spin on the Apocalypse, of course they would not want him or Michael available to mess things up again.

   “Cas, I’ll be fine. I’ve faced them before and I’m still here.” Castiel opened his mouth to protest but Dean held up a hand to stop him. “And I’m going to protect Sammy to the end, and you. I’m not sitting on the sidelines and letting you guys go out there alone. Anyway, I could die any day, right?” He had a convincing point but Castiel hardly seemed pleased. If it were down to Castiel he would have both the boys removed from the whole situation, to never have to face such evil again. Yet this was how the world was, and however much Castiel disliked the idea, it was the hand they had been dealt. Castiel nodded and sighed, resigning himself to losing this argument. Dean offered him the best smile he could at that point in time and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

   The diner’s food was half decent and Dean was glad that the distraction of food made Gabriel and Sam shut up even if just for ten minutes. Castiel told the pair what he had told Dean, and Gabriel agreed with the conclusion. “Yeah, but they still need me as a vessel,” Sam said quietly after they finished talking about the angel master plan. “They can’t do anything unless I say yes, right?” Gabriel sighed and seemed suddenly put off his food, something that immediately perked Dean’s interest.

   “Sammy, Camael is trying to get his hands on you,” he said quietly, casting a glance to Castiel who had bowed his head and suddenly appeared very interested in his burger. “If he does, you’ll say yes.” Gabriel’s voice was gentle and Dean had never heard such a tone from him. Sam stared at him for a long moment before looking at Dean.

   “Then he doesn’t get his hands on me,” he said simply. Dean could certainly get behind that.

   “If you don’t want Camael to find you then I don’t think going to the gate of Hell is a good idea,” Castiel muttered, finally looking up from his food to settle his gaze onto Sam.

   “Then I’ll stay in the motel.” Sam shrugged and Dean watched as Gabriel actually ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

   “You’re not staying in a motel by yourself where the nastiest archangel of them all can find you,” he muttered. “Really you shouldn’t have come on this trip, but then they also know about Bobby’s, I’m sure.” He paused for a moment, golden eyes rested on Sam, and Dean felt he was interrupting some terrible chick-flick moment. “You’re better off coming with us. At least then me and Castiel can stand a chance of protecting you.” Castiel paled at that and Dean instinctively moved a hand under the table to rest against his leg. Dean had already put two and two together and worked out that Camael was the one doing all the torturing up in Heaven. He had made a mess of Gabriel, and he was sure it was him who had done the same to Castiel.

   “Yeah and I’ll be there too,” he said quietly, Gabriel laughed, as if he were about to shoot Dean down, but nodded.

   “Yeah, your bull-headed big bro will be there to yell at an archangel.” Under normal circumstances Dean may have been offended but he had to admit that was probably what he would do. He grinned and nodded in agreement, running his thumb in small circles on Castiel’s thigh. The angel was keeping an excellent poker face, picking at the fries on his plate as if nothing were happening beneath the table. Dean suddenly wanted to break that poker face, and slid his hand a little higher. Castiel jumped as he felt the hand move, banging one knee on the table and sending the bottle of ketchup toppling over. Dean laughed and righted the bottle as Sam threw him the dirtiest look.

   “Dude, we’re eating,” he griped, picking up the pathetic excuse for a burger from his plate and returning to his food.

   “Yeah well I just endured the biggest chick-flick moment I’ve seen from you so I thought I’d make it better,” Dean grumbled, looking across at the now flustered angel beside him. “You okay there?” Castiel actually glared at him, but under it was a slightly playful tone.

   “I’d prefer you didn’t molest me in public,” he muttered, returning to his food without another word. Dean huffed slightly and picked up his manlier burger, enjoying the peace and quiet that came from the archangel opposite him. A few minutes past, and Dean was just swallowing his last mouthful of food when there was suddenly a hand at his groin. He yelped and his knee smashed up against the table, sending the ketchup flying again. Castiel had hardly even moved, a smirk plastered over his face as he finished off the fries on his plate. Dean stared at him, flushed and a little confused, and Castiel finally turned his gaze to the man. “Well, I thought maybe you wanted to make a thing of it.” Dean suddenly had a whole new respect for Castiel and his newly found sense of humour.

   “Oh we are so making a thing of it.” Castiel had just started something Dean was perfectly willing to continue. He would see how long the angel kept up that poker face with Dean’s hand right on his lap. Sam coughed and Dean looked over to him as he settled back into his seat. “What?”

   “I’m sat right here, Dean, I don’t want to hear that.”

   “Same here. Watching little bro getting molested isn’t on the top of my to do,” Gabriel added, subtly conjuring up a glass of some sort of chocolate ice cream mixed with various other things to finish off his lunch. They finished eating feeling a little more merry than they had when they arrived, but Dean could still feel the weight on him that this was all going to end so badly. They hit the road again after stretching their legs around town, and after Gabriel irritated a shop owner enough that the police were nearly called. It took ten minutes before the singing started up once again.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, demons and angels, both in one town.”  
>  “And the secretary is a demon.” Dean raised his brow at Castiel and was rewarded with a steady stare.  
>  “And you didn’t think to mention that?”  
>  “You told me not to say anything.”

They picked up pizza, or rather two because Sam was a whiny bitch and had Gabriel to back him up now, when they finally arrived in town and settled down into a cramped motel room to eat. Sam had insisted he did not want his eyes burning out again and had booked a separate room for himself and Gabriel, and Dean had to say he was glad. He just wanted to hold his angel again and drink in his scent and taste without worry about his little brother barging in through the door. For now, however, he was happy to sit in their motel room with his brother and the two angels and enjoy some quiet time, or as quiet as things could be with Gabriel around. Dean lounged on the sofa beside Castiel, one arm resting lazily across the back of the sofa behind his angel. Gabriel had brought a chair in from somewhere, a rather nice, plush creation in green, and Sam was relaxing in it with the archangel at his feet, leaning up against his legs. Dean found it amusing that one of the most powerful creatures known to man was reclining on the floor when he could easily find another seat, but he bit back the comments that formed in his mind. He wanted to say something about Gabriel certainly being somebody’s bitch, but that had hardly ended well last time.

   They watched an old cowboy movie, on the only station that was available in the motel, much to Dean’s delight, and got stuck in with the pizza. Castiel had taken a little encouragement, but soon discovered that pizza came a close second to burgers and Dean had to stop him devouring the whole thing. “There’s a thing called sharing, Cas,” Dean laughed as the angel went for a third slice. Castiel only shrugged and relaxed against him as he took a bite out of the slice.

   “I’m hungry,” he justified after swallowing his food.

   “You pig,” Dean chuckled, letting his arm drop to wrap around Castiel’s shoulders. He only leaned further into Dean, bringing his feet up on the sofa to get more comfortable. Dean noticed Sam was watching, but was glad no snide remark was made, just a gentle smirk and a little quirk of the eyebrows. He guessed it was hard to taunt your brother for being gay for an angel when you yourself were getting rather friendly with the most obnoxious creation of Heaven. Not that either Gabriel or Castiel had any particular gender, meaning that in Dean’s eyes it was hardly being ‘gay’ at all. They just happened to be in male vessels, and Dean found that when it came to Castiel he really did not care what vessel he was in, even if he had grown very attached to those large blue eyes and messy dark hair.

   Dean had pondered recently, mostly on the agonisingly long car journey over, about this attraction to Castiel. At first it had shocked him because he was attracted to another man, but then he had thought deeper about it. He was not attracted to another man, not really. He was attracted to the creature that had dragged him out of the pit and pieced him back together, and had never really left his side since. He did not want to just have sex with Castiel and beat it all down to the basest of forms, he wanted to be close to him, to feel the warmth of his grace constantly, to know that he was right there beside him. For a long time Dean had felt something more, something very real, about the angel, and yet something inside him had refused to admit it.

   They had been brothers, or family, or something of the sort, and he had tried to ignore anything that had suggested it was anything other than that. He had drowned in Castiel’s eyes again and again, so much so that he knew they were more than just blue. In Castiel’s eyes Dean saw the expanse of Heaven and the Universe, because Castiel was not just a man. He was a bright energy, an almost unstoppable force, bottled up inside the image of a man. Every time Dean though about all that power surging through the veins of Jimmy Novak’s body, he felt so incredibly humbled, and maybe something else. Something about Castiel made him throw out any inhibitions he may have had about displaying affection with another man, because it was simply a coincidence that Castiel was in a male vessel, and whether Castiel had been in a male or female image the outcome would probably have been the same.

   Yet he almost felt ashamed to say that maybe if Castiel had been in a female form he would not have hesitated to display his feelings in a very physical form, he had certainly not hesitated with Anna, after all. It filled him with regret and he suddenly wanted to scrub that part of his history from his mind. Castiel had been with him through the worst parts of his life, had never doubted him, had saved his life on multiple occasions, and Dean had tried to ignore all his feelings. He had to wonder just how Castiel felt about him, and just how long had he felt it. Had he felt it when Dean had slept with Anna, in the Impala, of all things? He suddenly felt incredibly sick.

   Gabriel suddenly snorted a laugh at the movie they were watching, dragging Dean from a train of thoughts that were starting to become depressing.

   “They totally didn’t wear hats like that back then,” he complained and Dean swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat and shot him a glare.

   “Then what hats did they wear?” He narrowed his eyes at Gabriel and the archangel shrugged and took another slice of pizza. Pizza was not really his thing but he had made an exception for that night.

   “They weren’t as big or dramatic, and most of them had holes in them.”

   “Holes?” Sam laughed from the chair, raising an eyebrow. Gabriel nodded and eyed up the pizza in his hand.

   “Yeah, all sorts of holes. I met a guy who got shot straight through the hat, only just missed his brain. Said it was his lucky hat.” Gabriel took a bite out of his slice and chewed it for a moment before speaking again. “Didn’t save him when he got hit by a train though.” Sam chuckled and slid a little further down in his chair, propping his head up on his arm to watch the movie.

   “Yeah well it’s still a good movie,” Dean murmured, leaning forward and around Castiel to pick up a slice of pizza. Castiel grumbled lightly as the disturbance but quickly settled back down again as Dean sat back. In so many ways, Dean was glad that Sam had walked in on them. It was nice to be able to curl up and watch a movie with his angel but still have his brother there too. It was also nice to have nothing to hide.

   “The real thing’s better,” Gabriel retorted quietly.

   “Just shut up and watch it,” Dean growled. Luckily Gabriel fell quiet, but that could have had something to do with Sam batting lightly over the head with one hand. The archangel took the light abuse with a grin and trained his eyes on the TV, and Dean finally got to settle down and watch the movie.

   Other than Gabriel pointing out that a gun was totally not correct, and Dean actually agreeing on that one, they sat in a comfortable silence until the credits came up and it was getting pretty late. Dean had decided they did not have to be up early, something he was pretty glad for. Somehow Castiel had ended up just in his shirt and slacks curled up between Dean’s legs with his head resting on Dean’s chest, and he seemed pretty reluctant to move. He grumbled as Dean stretched out along the sofa, wrapping his arms further around Dean’s torso as if to stop him moving anywhere. Dean sighed and looked up at Sam, who was stood and stretching his arms out above his head, almost touching the ceiling with his fingertips. “I’m not helping,” Sam laughed as he reached down to pull Gabriel up from the floor.

   “Well thanks,” Dean said with a soft chuckle, giving up and resting his arms around his angel. Sam smirked and looked down at Gabriel as the archangel flexed all his muscles rather like a cat that had just been asleep for a while.

   “Well, best turn in,” he sighed, casting one last look at Dean and Castiel before heading towards the door, the archangel right on his heels. “We’ll see you in the morning.” Dean nodded and watched his brother leave, the door clicking shut behind him. He let out a long breath and looked down at Castiel. The angel finally lifted his gaze to look at him, looking much more awake than he had been portraying. Well, someone was turning into a real little actor. He lifted himself on his arms and hovered over Dean, his breath warm against the skin of Dean’s face. Dean let one hand run down to the angel’s waist as the other took a gentle grip on his neck, pulling him down for a soft kiss. He would never tire of the taste of the angel, because under the taste of whatever he had been eating and drinking that day there was something that could only be likened to a spring time storm, and Dean could just drink that in all day.

   He slid one hand under Castiel’s shirt and trailed his fingers up the soft, warm skin of his side. The angel shuddered and moaned into the kiss, and Dean took the advantage to deepen it and slide his tongue along Castiel’s. He took in a sharp breath through his nose as he felt a hand slide up over his stomach and chest and hook under the shoulder of the shirt he was wearing over the t-shirt. He pushed himself up and the angel was soon removing the shirt, long fingers sliding it off his arms with ease. He was soon completely shirtless, Castiel making short work of the t-shirt so he could run his hands over the skin of Dean’s chest and lay a trail of kisses down over his neck and collarbone as Dean’s fingers clumsily unfastened the buttons of his shirt. Dean’s fingers barely seemed to function through the shivers that Castiel was sending through his body, but he was determined and the shirt was soon removed, and Dean’s hands were immediately trailing up Castiel’s spine.

   The angel braced himself for his wings forming, only this time Dean’s hands stopped short and all he could do was break away from the kiss and look down curiously at his partner. Dean grinned and suddenly he was pushing up against Castiel, flipping them so the angel was beneath him. He was stunned, eyes slightly wide as he now looked up at Dean, his arms still wrapped around the man’s shoulders. Dean kissed him deeply again, a hand trailing slowly down Castiel’s chest, calloused fingers gentle and like small shocks to every nerve. The touch of the man had been something Castiel had thought about a lot.

   He had always watched Dean work, followed his hands as he cleaned a weapon or worked on the car, and he had always wondered what those hands would feel like against bare skin. The angel had kept the thoughts to himself, had buried them at the back of his mind and tried to continue as a soldier of the Lord. The truth was, he had not been a soldier for a long time. As soon as he had placed a hand on that tortured soul he had started to fall. At first he had been scared, had worried that he was losing everything he had. He had thought he was losing his home and his family, when in fact he was gaining a much better home and a family that he had grown to love and care for. Castiel did not regret for a minute that he had fallen and that it had been Dean who had caught him. His only regret was losing his connection with Heaven and not being able to put all his power into protecting the human.

   Castiel moaned at the back of his throat as Dean’s hand went lower and lower, finally stopping at his belt to slowly unfasten it. Apparently Dean was more skilled at unfastening belts one handed and Castiel soon felt a warm palm pressing against his arousal through the fabric of his underwear and he could only gasp and buck up against it, rocking his head back in pleasure. Dean took the opportunity to press kisses to the angel’s throat, making his way down slowly as his hand gently rubbed against Castiel’s erection, dragging a series of moans and gasps from the angel. Castiel had never known what it felt like to be touched in such a way, but now he was really starting to understand why humans enjoyed it so much.

   Every touch was magnified, like a bolt of lightning shooting through his body and lighting up every nerve he had. His grace pulsed in pleasure and he felt it surge through his body straight to the tips of his wings. He felt the kisses move down across his chest, leaving a trail of cooling damp patches in their wake. Castiel’s breath hitched in his chest and he groaned loudly as the kisses reached his stomach and the hand that had been rubbing him through his briefs pulled the fabric back to press skin to skin. The intimacy of the touch made a warmth pool in Castiel’s stomach and spread throughout his body to tangle with his grace and amplify every single sensation even further, and all he could do was press his head back into the arm of the sofa and close his eyes tight. The kisses moved lower again until they disappeared from his skin and he felt a hot breath against his erection. One hand flew to Dean’s hair as he felt his warm tongue trail a line straight up his length, and every muscle in Castiel’s body tensed up with pleasure.

   Suddenly Dean’s mouth was wrapped around him and the edges of Castiel’s vision went white at the feel of it, his grace flaring up inside him like an exploding star. Dean’s tongue slid down over the sensitive head and Castiel could do nothing but grip his hair tightly with one hand and the back of the sofa with the other, knuckles going white as he gasped out a moan. Dean let out a moan to match, the vibration of it running right down the length of Castiel’s arousal and causing him to instinctively push his hips up against the hot mouth that was taking him in. Dean took it expertly, allowing more of the erection to slip into his mouth before withdrawing again and trailing his tongue right up his whole length. Castiel was lost to the world as Dean repeated the motion again and again, each time taking a little more into his mouth until he was nearly swallowing it all. Castiel could not look at him, head rocked back and eyes closed. If he dared to look he thought he would come apart there and then, and he wanted this to last forever. He could spend the rest of his eternity right there with Dean and he would have absolutely no regrets about that.

   Castiel’s grip on Dean’s hair was tight and rough and all it did was turn Dean on even more. He could feel his own arousal pressing tightly against his jeans, painfully constricted against the fabric. As he took Castiel into his mouth repeatedly he slipped one hand down to unfasten his own belt and jeans, the positively animalistic noises of the angel really not helping. He had never heard such erotic noises that went straight to his groin, and he was glad he could drag such a sound from such a magnificent being. Any doubts he had had when he had first thought about doing this were quickly being blown away by those noises and the pulses of energy that Dean could feel shooting straight through his body. It had been a spur of the moment decision, and Dean was all about being spontaneous, but this was certainly a decision he did not regret. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive tip and heard Castiel cry out, fingers digging into Dean’s neck and sending jolts of pleasure right down his spine.

   Dean moaned against the hardness in his mouth and pressed a hand to his own arousal, having freed it from the confines of his jeans and underwear. It was an unbearable tension that was coiling up inside him and he wanted to be right there with the angel. Castiel was panting and Dean finally dared a glance upwards to see his skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and his chest rising and falling heavily. His eyes were closed and his head back and Dean thought, not for the first time, that this was the most beautiful creature to walk the face of the Earth. His free hand moved to stroke Castiel’s erection in time with his mouth, and the added touch seemed to send the angel rocketing towards the edge as he let out a ragged cry of Dean’s name and gripped the sofa with both hands, the energy that had been crackling between them suddenly surging straight through Dean’s veins. He was trying to catch his breath, trying to control it, but Dean was merciless and getting a little bit addicted to the feel of Castiel’s true being bleeding out into the real world.

   He wanted to see the angel come apart. He was enjoying watching every layer of stoic soldier drop away to leave a completely new being, one with no defences, no puzzled gaze and no reservations. He enjoyed watching the angel writhe around, body shuddering with pleasure and back arched right off the sofa. He pulled his mouth away, carrying on the motion with his hand and looking up at the angel. “Let go,” he breathed, mouth close enough for his warm breath to land on the tender skin of the angel’s arousal, and Castiel’s mouth fell open in a silent cry as his hips bucked up against Dean’s hand.

   Dean was amazed at how close he was himself, and he knew that as the angel came undone then so would he. His hand moved in time on his own erection as he watched Castiel gasp and tighten his grip even more on the sofa. “Just let go,” he muttered again, moving up over the angel to press a kiss against his damp throat. Castiel moaned and wrapped his arms around Dean, burying his face against his shoulder and pushing his hips up so their erections rubbed together. Dean hissed at the connection and bit down on the soft skin of Castiel’s shoulder, and apparently that was all the angel needed to tip him over. To say he came with an explosion was a little bit of an understatement, letting out a muffled groan against Dean’s shoulder as Dean felt the warm liquid coat his hand and a surge of energy pulse through the whole room, and straight through every vein and nerve in Dean’s body.

   Somehow Castiel’s hand was against his arousal as Dean fell over the edge himself, crying out a string of profanities against the angel’s shoulder as all the tension and energy inside him suddenly released. It was probably the most intense orgasm Dean had ever had in his life, and he had barely even done anything to himself. His back arched and he let out a long groan as his whole body shuddered, and he knew then that sex with an angel was bound to be the most incredible sensation in the world. His arms had no strength to hold him and so he fell twitching and spent on top of Castiel, feeling warm arms wrapped over his back and panted breaths against the skin of his shoulder.

   The motel room was silent other than their heavy breathing as they came down from their high, Dean rested lightly atop his angel, feeling a gentle breeze against his back that confused him at first until he realised it could have only been Castiel’s wings wrapping around him invisibly. He suddenly felt warm and safe like he had never felt before. He shivered gently and lifted his head to look his angel in the eye. He looked stunning, his face flushed and his lips moist, eyes lidded slightly from the exhaustion of pleasure. He smiled at Dean and Dean could only lean up and kiss him gently, just to sear the moment into his brain forever.

   Castiel sighed through his nose and rested a hand on Dean’s neck. He had already cleaned them up with his clever little tricks and Dean could rest comfortably on top of him, chest to chest, and kiss him gently for as long as he wished. He was completely satisfied, his body heavy along with his eyes, and he had trouble to recall the last time he had been so happy and comfortable. He felt the world spin for a minute and even without opening his eyes or breaking the kiss he knew they were on the bed. Even the little jump seemed to tire the angel, however, and his kisses became slower and lazier. Dean pulled back to gaze down at his partner and smiled as Castiel grinned sleepily with his eyes closed.

   “Sexual activities are tiring,” he muttered, and Dean could not have agreed more as he fastened up his jeans lazily, always cautious enough to not risk having to fight a demon and have his pants fall down. Castiel had been even lazier and used what was left of his mojo to return his slacks to the state they had been in before Dean had nearly ripped them apart. They had booked a twin room, but there was no way Dean was sleeping alone that night when all he wanted was to be as close as possible to Castiel. He rolled slightly to one side but kept himself half draped across his angel, head resting on his shoulder and one of Castiel’s arms wrapped around him and resting on his side. He could also feel the gentle brush of feathers against his skin and, even though the wings were not physical, he felt comfort in the knowledge that they were there.

   “How are your wings?” He asked quietly, suddenly feeling guilty that he had not checked them in a while. He had wanted to see them every night but it was hard to get into any sort of routine when archangels kept popping in and out and the angels were trying to destroy the world.

   “They are good. Would you like to check?” Castiel’s voice was heavy with sleep and Dean smiled and pushed himself up on his elbow.

   “Yeah, why not?” Castiel smiled sleepily before rolling over onto his front. Dean did not even have to touch his shoulders, the wings suddenly unfurling into reality with a gentle rustle of feathers. “I never knew you could do that,” he said quietly as he trailed his fingers through the long flight feathers. Castiel snorted a soft laugh and buried his face against the pillows.

   “You never asked. Besides, I preferred your method.” Dean could not help the grin that spread onto his face. So maybe Castiel had had these feelings for a little longer than Dean had imagined. The wings were looking better than ever, and Dean’s breath caught in his chest as Castiel spread them out to either side until they were almost at their full span, the tip of one wing even brushing the wall of the motel room. The flight feathers were long and elegant and were like shimmering smoke in the dull light of the motel room, and Dean suddenly felt an intense hate towards the angel that had ripped them out and mutilated such magnificent things. He moved to straddle Castiel’s hips, pressing a light kiss to the angel’s neck before watching his own fingers run through the feathers. Castiel folded his wings back down again so Dean could run his fingers down the longest feathers, enjoying the feel of them like a breeze against his skin. Looking at the wings now, there were no signs of the torture they had been through. They were full and perfect in every way. Dean leaned down and rested his head between Castiel’s shoulders, inhaling the scent of the feathers that coated his skin there between the wings. They smelled like the heavy air before a thunderstorm, like rainfall in the spring and something he could not place. He imagined it was the scent of the universe, of the atmosphere way above the Earth, of stars and galaxies man could only wish to touch. He pressed a kiss amongst the downy feathers between his shoulder blades before removing himself from Castiel’s back.

   The angel rocked onto his side slightly to see what Dean was doing as he lifted one of the wings and crawled underneath. Castiel smiled and wrapped the wing around Dean, drawing him closer into his warmth. Dean was once again overwhelmed with that feeling of safeness and curled up against Castiel, burying his face against his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him. Castiel kept his wings manifested as he held Dean close and wrapped himself around the man in every possible way. Dean had no idea when he fell asleep, but he knew he did it with a happy warmth settling within him as he listened to the angel beside him breathing deeply.

~*~

The first thing to be done was find out more about the missing people that had been turning up in the town. As Dean showered, Castiel gazed over the pictures of the people that were scattered over the bed that had been totally abandoned the night before. He was sure each now contained an angel, and the memory of Jimmy Novak crept into his mind. Jimmy had thought it some sort of divine duty, or some such thing, to be the vessel for an angel. The idea had soon soured, and Castiel often felt guilt for that, especially as he became more and more aware of how humans worked. When Castiel had been brought back after Lucifer had torn him apart, there had been a distinct loss inside him, and somehow he had just known Jimmy was gone. It was strange having a body of his own, and yet also very empty. There was no soul in the body any more, only Castiel’s own grace, and that made everything seem to echo around. It also seemed to mean that Castiel had access to every nerve ending in the body now, or at least that was his best guess at the reason. He had developed a sudden appreciation of taste, smell and sensations such as pain, warmth, and cold. Yet Castiel remembered what it was like when he had first visited Jimmy, and he looked at the vessels before him now and felt sad. Some of them could very well contain very powerful angels, and he could only begin to imagine what they were going through if Jimmy’s words were anything to go by. He sighed, suddenly very glad that Jimmy was at rest somewhere. It could not have been pleasant having his body ripped apart and having absolutely no ability to stop it, and the fact this had happened a few times could not have helped. Castiel was glad that some higher being had had the mercy to let Jimmy’s soul moved on, and he dared to think once again, if only for a minute, that it had been God who had pieced him back together and eased Jimmy’s passing.

   Castiel was hardly ready to leave the motel room as the shower cut off and he heard Dean moving around in the bathroom. He had removed his tie at some point while they were watching the movie the night before and his rumpled shirt was rolled up to his elbows. He found the sleeves were too long for him and they irritated him to the point he wanted to just rip them off, so he simply rolled them up out of the way. He picked up the tie that had been thrown idly on the floor and was eyeing it up dubiously when Dean emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a towel. He almost dropped the strip of fabric, averting his eyes from the mostly naked hunter. “Cas, seriously,” his voice had an amused hint to it and Castiel dared to look up to see a grin on the man’s face. “After last night?” Castiel blushed and slipped the tie around his neck, but he suddenly found himself without the ability to actually tie it. He stared at the ends in his hands, mind going completely numb, and then suddenly there were hands near his throat, fastening up the last few buttons of his shirt. He lifted his gaze to meet emerald green eyes and then he really could not think at all. Dean held eye contact as he popped up Castiel’s collar, and only looked away as he neatly tied the blue length of fabric and slid it into place. “You okay?” Castiel was shook from his effort of counting every freckle on Dean’s face and frowned a little.

   “I’m fine, although I do not understand why I must accompany you,” he replied gruffly. He hated having the tie right up to his throat and the constricting top button fastened, he would rather wait in the car while Dean and Sam interrogated people. Dean’s hands fell from the now fastened tie and righted collar to land at Castiel’s waist and draw him a little closer.

   “Because I want you there,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s lips before pulling away and retrieving the suit he had brought with him. “Also I thought you might recognise if someone’s hitching a ride.” Castiel sat on a part of the bed that was not covered in photographs and watched as Dean started pulling clothes on. He was somewhat glad he could now openly watch how the man’s muscles moved, how his long fingers worked on the buttons of his shirt.

   “Gabriel would be of more use, and I believe you yourself can probably tell now,” Castiel mused quietly, drawing his eyes away from Dean to look at the pictures again. Some were images from news articles, others were from cameras, and some appeared to be from missing persons posters.

   “I don’t always notice wings and I’m not spending all day with Gabriel,” Dean grumbled as he sat on the bed to pull his socks on. “Sam can deal with him. So you’re stuck with me I’m afraid.” Castiel smiled a little at that.

   “There are worse places to be stuck,” he muttered. Dean laughed and went to find his smarter shoes, buried somewhere in his duffel bag. Castiel decided it was probably time he put his own shoes on, and found them somewhere near the sofa where he had kicked them off the night before. When he had first arrived on Earth, clothes had hardly bothered him, but now it was most uncomfortable to relax in a coat and shoes.

   Sam and Gabriel were waiting outside when they left the motel room. Sam was leaning against the Impala and Gabriel was trying to explain something, probably something geeky, with exaggerated hand gestures. Dean felt Castiel’s hand brush against his and briefly slid their hands together to give him a gentle squeeze before making his way to the driver’s side. Castiel went to get in the back behind Dean, having been uncomfortable with the amount of complaining Sam had done the day before about the lack of leg room and how he hated being cramped in the back with an archangel, and Sam shot him a look of gratitude before lifting his weight off the car and slipping into the passenger seat. Castiel suddenly regretted being polite when he turned to see Gabriel grinning at him from the seat beside him. He felt like his stomach had lodged itself in his throat as the archangel wriggled his eyebrows and gave him a nudge. “Good job I know how to hide your grace, little bro,” he muttered so the arguing brothers in the front could not hear them. “That was quite the little explosion last night.” Castiel felt his cheeks burn and looked away out of the window as the Impala rolled from the motel’s parking lot. “Imagine what the whole thing is going to be like,” Gabriel breathed. Castiel had suddenly had enough.

   Dean felt the pressure in the car drop all of a sudden and something tug at his gut, and one glance in his mirror revealed a very angry angel facing down a very amused archangel. Castiel hardly seemed to care about the power difference, or even that his batteries were still nearly totally drained, as a small rumble of thunder sounded overhead. Dean could see the storm brewing beneath his partner’s eyes and suddenly he was reaching back to press a hand to Castiel’s chest, leaning awkwardly to keep his eyes on the road at the same time. “Cas, stop. Whatever he’s done isn’t worth it,” Dean growled, feeling an accelerated heartbeat beneath his palm. It was weird enough that the vessel was reacting in a very human way, but even weirder that Castiel was losing his temper in such an epic manner. Castiel locked gazes with the archangel for a little longer before finally looking away. The car returned to normal and suddenly it was a bright and cold October morning again outside. Dean removed his hand from the angel and placed it back on the steering wheel, letting out a long sigh. Sam seemed fascinated, turning to look into the back of the car.

   “What did you _do_?” He asked Gabriel in a slightly perplexed tone. Gabriel only shrugged, and pushed a grin onto his face, but Dean could see in the mirror that it was not his usual smug expression. Luckily Gabriel said nothing else on the matter and the rest of the car journey into town passed in silence.

   Dean was glad when he finally got to drop Sam and the archangel off, Gabriel transforming his clothes into a suit before he climbed out of the car, grumbling about having to actually open doors and move his legs or something. Dean certainly did not miss the way his brother’s brows raised at the sight of Gabriel in a suit, or the way his eyes scanned over every inch of the angel. Dean coughed from where he was leaning over into the passenger seat to speak to Sam, and his brother jerked before looking at him.

   “We’ll meet you back here at twelve.” He paused as he was suddenly leaning over an angel, and he threw an exasperated look at Castiel before looking back to Sam. “Call me if you find anything. And you, stop popping up under me,” he hissed the last part to Castiel, and the angel only offered him a soft grin that Dean had to stare at for a minute before he realised exactly what the angel was grinning at. “You’ve changed,” he said with his own grin before straightening up. “I like it.” He offered a wave to his brother, who looked as if he needed a bucket, before pulling off from the curb and heading in the direction of the police station. Sam had offered to check out surveillance at some of the shops in town and try to spot any strange happenings, and so the task of talking to the police had settled on Dean and Castiel. Still, he was happy he was not the one to be spending all morning watching videos with an archangel who was so fed up of this human business.

~*~

   “Remember which way to hold your badge this time,” Dean sighed as they pulled up outside the station. Castiel actually rolled his eyes at him.

   “I have seen you lie to the authorities enough by now to know how to do it,” he grumbled before climbing out of the car. Dean had no idea how the angel even managed to make getting out of the car look effortless and fluid, standing and shutting the door all in one smooth movement. Dean was not as elegant, being the dumb human he was, but he was soon at Castiel’s side.

   “And don’t mention angels. In fact, don’t speak,” he said as he straightened the tie around Castiel’s neck. Somehow he had already managed to fidget with it and loosen it.

   “Dean I-”

   “I don’t care,” Dean lifted a hand to cut him off. “Don’t say anything.” Castiel looked at him with a frown and Dean lifted his eyebrows in retaliation. “Yeah see, like that, you can play all bad cop.”

   “I don’t-” Castiel seemed frustrated already, shaking his head. “Okay.” Dean knew he had no idea what bad cop even meant, and it filled him with a little amusement and also an insane amount of appreciation that he just said okay to something he had no idea about.

   The officer they spoke to was short and weedy and Dean had to wonder how he had gotten the job in the first place. Still, he was nice enough and luckily Castiel stayed quiet long enough for Dean to get them access to all the reports of the people who had turned up in the town. The young officer was particular disturbed by one report of one man being shot and walking away totally unharmed. “Why was he shot?” Dean asked as he looked at a photograph of the man in question, a large man, probably in his late thirties, with a squint and greasy blonde hair. The angels sure knew how to pick their vessels.

   “He was yelling at someone for being a whore, had her pinned to a wall and everything. The craziest part? She was _laughing_ at him,” the officer said in a hushed tone. Dean frowned and then nodded.

   “Well thank you, officer, we can take it from here.” He offered his best smile and the young man left them alone in the interview room that had been turned into an evidence room just for this mysterious influx of missing people. “You think that was a demon thing?” Dean asked quietly as he shuffled through the pictures. There were at least twenty possible angels in the town. Castiel leaned against the table and nodded.

   “They may have some sort of alliance, that does not mean they like each other,” he muttered, watching as Dean’s hands moved the evidence around. The man nodded and rested his hands on the table to lean against them.

   “So, demons and angels, both in one town.”

   “And the secretary is a demon.” Dean raised his brow at Castiel and was rewarded with a steady stare.

   “And you didn’t think to mention that?”

   “You told me not to say anything.” Dean had to admit he had a point, of course Castiel had taken that so literally.

   “You think she’s going to raise the alarm?” The demons knew his face, along with Sam’s and most likely Castiel’s. The angel nodded gently and straightened up.

   “But she cannot expel herself in front of everyone. She is attempting to leave the building.” Suddenly the angel was gone and Dean was staring at an empty spot and waiting. The minutes started to drag out and Dean started to get impatient. He was fed up of worrying about the angel facing down demons, fed up of knowing just how vulnerable Castiel was currently. He was cut off from Heaven and every time he did anything angelic he drained himself right down again. Dean decided they needed to move. If Castiel was facing down a demon then alarm bells would be ringing for the angels and they would very soon be surrounded. He grabbed the stack of police reports that was on the table just as Castiel snapped back into existence beside him, his breathing heavy. “She’s been dealt with,” he managed to say, and Dean was immediately at his side as he swayed dangerously. Damn the angel, he was in no state for fighting.

   “You idiot,” Dean hissed lightly, helping Castiel towards the door. “Shoulda just let me deal with her.” Castiel laughed half-heartedly and rested his weight against Dean as they staggered from the room.

   “I… disposed of the vessel ten miles away… in woodland,” he panted. They were drawing some curious looks from the staff in the station, and Dean had his eyes on everyone as they made for the exit. He offered a reassuring smile to them all, making the excuse that his partner just had low blood sugar. It was not until they were nearly at the door when Dean noticed one of the staff was far from curious. A broad man was heading straight for them, and Dean could see them then. One glance at the shadows of wings curling out from the man and Dean was suddenly clutching at Castiel. He was about to ask for the blade when suddenly he was somewhere completely different, and completely alone. He gasped in a lung full of air and looked at his surroundings. He was in town, he recognised the diner where he had dropped Sam and Gabriel off. He fumbled for his phone and shakily pressed the buttons to call Sam, pressing the phone to his ear as he searched the street around him, his free hand clutching his hair. Sam soon picked up, and Dean did not even give him time to say hello.

   “Sam, we got jumped at the station, Cas… Cas sent me out of there. Sam he… he can’t fight another angel… Sam I-” Sam cut off Dean’s panicked rambling by snapping at him sharply.

   “Dean, it’s okay, Gabriel’s gone to get him.” Dean let out a long breath and swallowed hard. “He’ll bring him back here, we’re at the antique shop at the top of the street.” Dean swept his gaze over the street and caught sight of the dusty little building, stood beside a rather large and obnoxious bank.

   “Alright, I’ll be right there,” he breathed, starting to walk towards the shop.

   “Good. And Dean, he’s fine, I’m sure. Cas knows what he’s doing.”

   To say Dean was a nervous wreck by the time he met Sam in the dingy little antique shop was an understatement. Gabriel still had not returned and Dean had heard no word on the matter. He paced the shop as Sam sat and watched him, eyes following him around with concern. Apparently the shop keeper had disappeared to the bank while Sam and Gabriel had been watching the tapes, and Dean was so very glad he had no curious bystanders to deal with right then. “What is taking so long,” Dean growled, and as if on cue there was a flutter of wings and two bodies appeared in the room. Gabriel seemed flustered and slightly ruffled, the suit he had been wearing now displaying a few bloodstains and his lip red from a cut. Dean barely took any of that in, however, as his eyes fell to the slumped figure Gabriel was holding up. His hands were soon on Castiel, taking his weight from Gabriel and helping him over to a chair. He had taken a pretty bad beating, a cut bleeding profusely on his brow and a split lip to match it. There was also a lot of blood that Dean could just not work out where it was coming from, but he guessed somewhere around his hairline. “You idiot,” he muttered as he wiped some of the blood away from the angel’s eye. Castiel was clinging lightly to his jacket, his blue eyes dazed and his breath coming out ragged.

   “He would have followed me,” Castiel choked, and all Dean could do was pull him into a hug, ignoring how his suit would be covered in blood afterwards. The angel sagged against him and Dean held him close, glancing up at Gabriel. The archangel had cleaned himself up but it was still clear he had been in a fight.

   “Can you help?” He sounded pathetic and it stung his ego to be pathetic to an archangel, but Castiel was seriously hurting and he had no idea what to do about it. Gabriel gave a short nod and reached out to rest a hand against Castiel’s shoulder.

   “He’s still not going to be of much use, though,” he said quietly, and Dean nodded. As long as the angel was not in any pain, Dean would carry him around if he had to. He felt the breathing ease against him and let out a deep breath of his own.

   “You should have kept me there,” he mumbled. “Then I could have helped.” Castiel shook his head but did not remove his face from where he had buried it against Dean’s shoulder.

   “I could not risk it,” he said quietly. Dean sighed and looked up at Gabriel again, who had his eyes fixed on Sam but brought his attention back to Dean as he felt that gaze upon him.

   “We need to move,” Gabriel said sternly. Dean nodded and went to stand, pulling Castiel up with him. “I’ll go get your car, I’m not dragging you all around.” Suddenly Gabriel was gone, and Dean looked up as Sam appeared on the other side of Castiel to help him.

   “Maybe coming here was a bad idea,” Dean sighed, wrapping his arm around the angel’s waist to support him. Castiel turned his eyes to Dean, heavy with tiredness but still astonishingly blue.

   “The angels knew we would come. Their plan relies on our… compassion.” The angel closed his eyes and rested his head against Dean’s shoulder. Dean hoped they could get him somewhere quiet and hidden for a while, otherwise they were certainly screwed. He noticed something appear outside and, sure enough, it was the Impala. Gabriel popped up beside them, out of breath and a little red in the face. It seemed he was not as recharged as he liked to make out after his little explosion in the warehouse.

   “Alright, get him to the car, we need to get somewhere away from here,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair and moving to open the door as Dean and Sam helped the angel out.

   They were almost at the car when suddenly Dean was supporting the whole weight of Castiel and Sam was gone. Dean nearly fell to the ground with the extra weight, flinging a hand out to support himself on the Impala just in time. Gabriel spun around to see Sam was gone, and suddenly he was gone too, leaving Dean completely confused.

   “It’s the angels,” Castiel said in a hushed voice, clinging to Dean and looking around. There was a sudden loud bang and Gabriel appeared again, being flung backwards by a lithe, tall young man in a long, black coat and sporting six giant, white wings that glowed in the sunlight just on the edge of Dean’s vision. Castiel shrank back against Dean as if he were trying to bury himself in the man, and all Dean could do was gawp as the young man with short, spiky, dark hair and a thunderous expression grabbed Gabriel by the throat and flung him through the window of the old antique shop. The archangel was soon on his feet, and Dean got the sudden feeling that he did not want to be here anymore. “The battles of archangels should not be witnessed so closely,” Castiel breathed, scrambling for the car door. Dean had to say he could not have agreed more. He made sure Castiel had climbed in, or rather thrown himself on the backseat, before jumping into the driver’s seat just as Gabriel retaliated with an explosion of light that shook the Impala and shattered the windows.

   “Shit!” Dean yelled over the sudden shrieking noise that filled the air. He could not see, and it felt as if his ears were about to explode. The noise and light suddenly vanished and he dared to peer over the dashboard to see Gabriel facing down this new archangel the middle of the street, angel blades gleaming in the sunlight. Dean had to say Sam would probably have an erection seeing Gabriel in a suit squaring up to such a powerful creature, his golden wings flaring out behind him and making him seem ten times bigger than he was. A hand was suddenly gripping his and he glanced back to see Castiel watching the fight wide-eyed. “Who is that, anyway?” Castiel looked at him for a moment before flinching as the two angels clashed together again in a fray of wings and silver blade.

   “Camael,” Castiel breathed, fingers tightening around Dean’s. Dean looked back to the fight as Gabriel managed to fling Camael across the street.

   “We can’t leave him here to fight it out himself,” he said quietly, hoping he sounded more convinced that he was. Castiel swallowed hard and shook his head.

   “We are of no use here,” he was suddenly shouting over the rumble of the Earth and sky, clouds bubbling and seething overhead as the ground shook beneath them. Dean had no idea what to do.

   “We aren’t leaving him!” He was suddenly very adamant. He could not leave Gabriel in a town full of angels after a fight like this. They would have to remain hidden, meaning even Gabriel would not be able to find them, and, however much the archangel irritated him, he was not prepared to abandon him.

   “Dean! If he loses this, we’re next!” There was desperation in Castiel’s voice, and he was as close to hyperventilating as an angel could get. The high pitched shriek was suddenly in the air again and Dean covered his ears as it rose in pitch. Castiel even clamped his hands to his head and curled up on the backseat as the noise grew louder and higher. Dean knew his ears were bleeding and he squeezed his eyes shut. He was suddenly terribly glad he did, as a wave of light and energy suddenly erupted from Gabriel. The Impala slid back with the impact, and possibly every shop window down the street shattered at once. The light burned Dean’s eyes even through his eyelids and his skin felt like it was on fire. He wanted to see what was happening, but every sense in his body was on fire. Just when he thought he would pass out, everything fell silent and the world was pitched into darkness.

   The first thing Dean was aware of was the chorus of car alarms mixing in with the ringing in his ears. He slowly opened his eyes to find the world was not as dark as he thought, and it was still around midday in Montana. He took a few deep breaths and looked into the back seat from where he had thrown himself across the front. Castiel was staring at him with wide, petrified eyes with his hands still clamped to his ears. “Cas, it’s okay.” He looked out through the shattered windscreen to see the street clear of fighting angels. “It’s over,” he breathed. He suddenly felt his heart lurch as he spotted the crumpled heap of suit in the middle of the street. “Gabriel,” he choked out, scrambling to get out of the car. His legs felt like lead and his head was pounding, but he soon found his way to the archangel’s side. He appeared generally unharmed but he was completely unconscious. Castiel fell to his knees beside them and studied the archangel closely, pressing a hand to his chest and pausing for a few moments.

   “He’s still there,” Castiel sighed in relief. He was still shaky and weak and completely terrified, but he actually managed a smile as he looked at Gabriel.

   “What the hell was that, anyway?” Dean grunted as he hauled Gabriel up off the floor. He hoped Castiel could get back to the car by himself because he would have enough trouble carrying the small vessel of the archangel with the way his head was spinning.

   “In his true form Gabriel could banish Camael, or at least that is what I assume. That explosion was the banishment.”

   “So how come it didn’t wipe you out this time?” Dean looked at Castiel as the angel wobbled alongside him, swaying on his feet and hardly walking in a straight line. Dean assumed he was not much better, and was glad that the car was not far away. Suddenly he had the dread that maybe his baby was broken and they would be stuck in angel town with two wiped out angels and no Sam.

   “The only reason can be that Gabriel managed to control his power this time,” Castiel muttered, stopping suddenly as he realised Dean was no longer at his side. “Dean?” The man was staring at him wide eyed.

   “Where’s Sam?” Castiel opened his mouth to answer but Dean knew he had no idea as he closed it again and looked down.

   “With Camael, in all likelihood,” he said quietly, and suddenly Dean really wanted to punch something. He swallowed whatever feelings had built up into a painful lump in his throat and nodded. Flying off the handle whilst surrounded by angels would not get Sam back.

   “Alright, let’s get the hell out of here, and then we get Sam back.” His voice wavered and he hated himself for that, but Castiel only nodded and made his way unsteadily to the car. The angel climbed into the passenger seat as Dean slid Gabriel into the back. He slipped in behind the wheel again and hoped that his baby was as durable as he liked to think. She ticked over for a few seconds before roaring into life and he could only say that was the best noise in the world at that moment. “Oh thank you, baby,” he sighed as he pressed his head to the steering wheel.

   Dean took a few moments to clear his head before he put his foot down and the Impala jumped forward with a low growl. Dean wished they had never set foot in that town. If they had just hidden out somewhere then maybe they could have completely avoided the Apocalypse. Then again, not everything was always that easy. They would have been found, one way or another, and he guessed at least this way they had brought the fight to the angels. Gabriel seemed to have temporarily banished all the angels in the town as Dean managed to race out without being intercepted and they were soon heading into woodland.

   “We’re going to need help,” Castiel said quietly as they sped down a narrow road lined by trees. Dean looked across to him and nodded tightly.

   “Yeah, but who’s gonna want to help us,” he snorted, running a hand through his hair and finding that somewhere during the archangel showdown he had acquired a cut, most likely from some flying glass, and his fingers came away red.

   “There must be some angels who are not part of this,” Castiel mused, “and Crowley also does not wish for this.” The angel had a good point.

   “Alright, sounds like a plan.” In fact it hardly sounded like a plan at all but Dean could only hope that someone out there was willing to stop all this.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re lucky you have some good friends,” Crowley said calmly, and Dean felt his gut twist at the sound of that voice. “And you’re also lucky that I like those friends, because they don’t screw up everything they touch.”

Dean was about fed up of cleaning up blood. He grimaced as he touched a cut on his forehead that had been caused by a shard of glass. Castiel had managed to remove the fragments of glass that had remained in the wound, but he could barely sit up let alone be of much use and so Dean was left to wash his own injuries. The worst part was he had no clean clothes or proper materials to clean anything, and so he was using the tie he had been wearing soaked in alcohol. If there was one thing Dean was glad of it was that the small hunting cabin they had found had contained alcohol. It was good for cleaning up wounds and also forgetting the pain of them. Other than that, the cabin did not contain much else, just a pair of sofas and a small double bed, and a few tins of beans in the battered cabinets that made up the poor excuse of a kitchen. Castiel had assured Dean that while both he and Gabriel were drained, and with the markings on Dean’s ribs, they would not be found, but the man was still on edge.

   Castiel watched as Dean cleaned up his face in the dusty old mirror he had propped up on the coffee table. The angel had insisted Dean tended to his own wounds first. The majority of Castiel’s injuries had been healed by Gabriel, and all that was left now was some dried blood and a few cuts from the explosion. The angel was resting on one of the battered old sofas, tired eyes watching every single one of Dean’s movements. Gabriel had still not come around and was laid out on the other sofa where Dean had dropped him rather unceremoniously. Castiel predicted he would be awake within the hour, and was certainly hoping it would not take that long. He knew they needed protection or they would soon be discovered. He cast a gaze around the small cabin and slowly pushed himself up. “I need a knife,” he said quietly as he rose from the sofa unsteadily. Dean looked at him with confusion but still pulled the knife from his pocket and offered it to the angel. Castiel removed his coat and jacket and tossed them aside before pressing the blade to his arm and completely underestimating how much it would actually hurt. As a full angel it hardly bothered him, but now the pain seared through him and he hissed as red liquid started to pour from the wound.

   “Cas! Seriously,” Dean snapped as he rose to his feet and took the knife away, trying to look at the wound. Castiel batted him away lightly and moved towards the windows of the house to start drawing sigils on them. He could remember the ones Gabriel had drawn at Bobby’s house and replicated them from the images that were burned into his mind. He had made a specific point to remember them, because he knew how old Camael was, and knew that it would take something special to keep him out. Dean hovered at his side as he scrawled the sigils on the windows and some of the walls. He was starting to feel faint, the pain in his arm dulling down to a faint throb but the blood still seeping out of it. He felt an arm around his waist as he swayed and finished the final symbol, letting his arms drop to his sides and admiring his work. Dean took Castiel’s arm in his hands and pressed the clean side of the tie to the wound roughly. “Are you done being an idiot now?” Dean growled as he tied the fabric around Castiel’s arm tightly and dragged him back over to the sofa.

   “I should have done it as soon as we arrived,” Castiel argued quietly, allowing Dean to shove him down onto the sofa again. “I am surprised we have not already been discovered.” Dean crouched in front of him and looked up at him with those bright green eyes, a small look of annoyance on his face.

   “Yeah sure, you just should have let me do it,” he grumbled as he moved to sit on the floor and fish his phone out of his pocket. “I’m gonna call Bobby, let him know what happened.” Castiel nodded and rested his legs out along the sofa, watching as Dean’s fingers quickly found and dialled Bobby.

   The phone rang a few times and Dean tapped his fingers impatiently as he waited. It rang a few too many times for his liking until the line finally clicked, and a voice that was certainly not Bobby’s answered.

   “Hello,” came the gravelly purr of a voice Dean could place immediately.

   “Crowley?” He paused for a beat, his heart lurching up into his throat. It was never good when Crowley decided to pay a visit. “Where’s Bobby?”

   “He’s busy, I can take a message.”

   “Put him on the phone,” Dean growled quickly losing his patience and fearing the worst. He heard an exasperated sigh from Crowley and some grumbling in the background that could have only been Bobby.

   “He’s perfectly fine, honestly. What do you Winchesters take me for?” the demon grumbled before there was a series of shuffling noises and a new voice on the phone.

   “What have you done now?” Bobby said gruffly. Dean pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and let out a long breath.

   “They took Sam,” he managed to say, swallowing back the emotions that threatened to bubble up at the very idea of it. Somewhere out there Sam was being tortured by some nasty archangel and Dean had no idea what to do about that.

   “Who took him?” Bobby’s voice was full of concern now.

   “Camael and his gang, Gabriel wiped them out, but they still got him.” There was a shuffling on the other end of the line and suddenly Crowley was back on the phone.

   “And you don’t trust me? You just let those holy bastards walk away with you brother,” he seethed, and Dean was certainly taken aback.

   “Hey, there wasn’t a lot I could do about it,” he snapped. “We need help to get him back. Fancy lending a hand or are you just gonna watch the world burn?”

   “You can’t get him back, you fool,” Crowley snarled. “Camael’s got him, you’re not getting him back.”

   “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

   “Get ready.” Dean ran a hand over his eyes and growled under his breath.

   “For what, exactly?”

   “For a tea party,” Crowley chided sarcastically. “War, you moron, war!” Dean heard a clatter and then a sigh from Bobby as the man returned to the phone.

   “Well you rattled someone’s cage,” Bobby grumbled quietly. Dean was still in shock, face pale and jaw slightly open.

   “Bobby, ask him what he meant by that,” Dean choked out. The hunter laughed coldly before replying.

   “He’s gone, but he means that Camael is going to make Sam say yes, and as soon as he does we’ve got a big problem on our hands, boy.” Dean felt like he was going to throw up and buried his face in his hand. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and was suddenly so very glad he still had Castiel. He heard Bobby sigh and shift around. “I’ll get him back, see if he can help us.” Dean frowned.

   “So what, you have a demon on speed dial now?”

   “Don’t be stupid,” Bobby grunted before hanging up. Dean stared at the phone in his hand for a minute, completely confused at what had just happened.

   “Dean?” He lifted his eyes to meet the curious and concerned frown of Castiel. He lifted a hand to take the one that rested on his shoulder and sighed as he ran his thumb over the angel’s knuckles.

   “I’m not letting Sam get fucked up by that son of a bitch,” he said quietly, still feeling queasy at the very idea of it. “We’ve gotta find a way to get him back.” Castiel’s eyes softened a little and he seemed to search for words before finally speaking.

   “There is nothing we can do, Dean. He is in a place we will never be able to reach.” Castiel’s voice was soft and low but his words still hit Dean like a tonne of bricks.

   “Maybe Gabriel can do it.” He had to convince himself there was a way. He was not going to leave Sam to deal with this alone. He cast a glance at the sleeping archangel before straightening up and running a hand through his hair. He decided now was a great time to clean his weapons, and before Castiel could say a word Dean had gone outside to get his stuff from the trunk of the Impala.

   Dean was just cleaning the barrel of his shotgun when Gabriel finally stirred. Castiel had fallen asleep a while ago and Dean had been sat in silence stewing over the idea of Sam in the hands of Camael. He looked across as the archangel groaned and pressed a hand to his eyes. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Dean called over. Gabriel suddenly sat bolt upright to look at Dean, eyes wide and frantic.

   “What happened?” He looked around for a minute, his eyes searching every inch of the cabin. “Where’s Sam?” Dean watched as his face fell and he had to say that was the most destroyed look he had ever seen. He sniffed and looked down at his shotgun, continuing to clean the barrel.

   “Despite your little nuclear deal, they got him.” He looked up to see Gabriel with his hands over his face, the shimmer of his wings coiling right in against his back. “He’s gone. But we’re gonna get him back.” The archangel choked out a laugh and shook his head, keeping his hands pressed against his eyes.

   “Of course we are, because the Winchesters just walk straight in and make everything worse,” he hissed under his breath before looking at Dean at last. Dean recoiled at the sight of the angel’s bloodshot eyes and he suddenly felt all his own emotion pushing at his throat again. “You just stay here and try not to get anyone else killed,” he snarled before vanishing from the sofa. Dean’s mouth hung agape as he stared at the empty space in front of him. Guilt and grief washed right over him and he ran a hand over his face, feeling the dampness against his skin. He had no idea when he had started crying, but he could not find a way to stop. He sat in silence on the floor where he had laid out all his weapons and suddenly everything felt like it was his fault. He should have looked after Sam better, he should have made sure they had never come to this town, he should have never gone to that police station. They all should have just stayed away from it all. The shrill sound of his phone cut through the silence and he swallowed back the tears before answering the call.

   “You’re lucky you have some good friends,” Crowley said calmly, and Dean felt his gut twist at the sound of that voice. “And you’re also lucky that I like those friends, because they don’t screw up everything they touch.”

   “What do you want?” Dean hissed, wiping the dampness from his face with the back of his hand.

   “I don’t want this world to burn, it’s bad for business. Against my better judgement, I’ve been persuaded to put some pieces on the board. I’ll be in touch.” The line went dead and Dean had absolutely no idea what to do, other than slam his phone down onto the floor and reach out for Castiel. He always tried not to wake the angel, as disturbing him during a dream could possibly be deadly, but he really did not want to be alone any more.

   “Cas, hey, wake up,” he muttered as he wiped the last of the moisture from his face and shook the angel’s shoulder lightly. Castiel moaned and swatted the hand away, opening his eyes sleepily to throw a disgruntled frown at Dean.

   “Dean?” He blinked a few times and glanced around the room. “Where’s Gabriel?” Dean shook his head and moved to sit up beside Castiel, needing to feel that warmth close to him.

   “He woke up and just left,” he said quietly. Castiel pushed himself up so he was sitting and rubbed a hand through his hair. He hesitated to stare at Dean for a minute before lifting a hand to press against Dean’s cheek, thumb brushing just beneath his eye.

   “You’ve been crying,” he said calmly, analytically, and Dean felt as if he were about to start simply sobbing. “Why?” Now there was genuine concern on Castiel’s face and Dean swallowed hard before shaking his head.

   “I let Sam down, I let them take him.” Castiel frowned and moved a little closer along the sofa, his hand dropping from Dean’s face to rest on his shoulder.

   “It was not your doing, the angels planned for this to happen.”

   “Exactly, and I let him walk straight into it, and now he’s gone, Cas.” He could feel the anger building up inside, a barely contained rage at himself that he simply could not shake. “We need to get him back.”

   “Not going to happen, kiddo,” Gabriel’s voice was sudden and startled Dean, his gaze shooting up to look at the figure stood in front of them. He was back in his usual clothes that never seemed to fit him properly, and a small shimmer of gold was hanging from his hand. Dean knew it was the feather and felt his heart drop right through his stomach. “He’s gone where you can’t get to him, of course.” Gabriel’s fingers played with the feather in his hand for a moment as he looked around the cabin, letting out a long, trembling sigh.

   “Then what do we even do? We can’t just leave him alone, I won’t let him go through that,” Dean said quietly. Gabriel looked down at him and for a moment his eyes softened, despite the tiredness and very clear anger brewing inside him.

   “I’ll try my best to get him back, but I’m not making any guarantees,” he paused for a moment and looked down at the feather before sighing and shaking his head. “I’ll search to the ends of the Earth if I have to, though. Pray if you need me, and don’t wait up.” Dean saw the wings flare out before Gabriel vanished into thin air again, his six extra limbs hardly making a flutter. Castiel let out a long breath and rested his forehead against Dean’s shoulder, one arm moving to rest around Dean’s chest. He leaned into the touch, tilting his head so it rested against the angel’s and closing his eyes.

   “It is not your fault, Dean,” Castiel muttered, and Dean felt the brush of a breeze against his back as the invisible wings wrapped around him comfortingly. He so desperately wanted to believe the angel, but he found it almost impossible. It was entirely his fault, this whole terrible mess.

   “We should never have come here,” he managed to say past the painful pressure in his throat, his eyes stinging with the tears he was barely holding back. Castiel did not say a word, instead slowly drawing away from Dean and pulling at the knot of the tie around his neck. Dean met his gaze, that steady cool blue that seemed to seep straight through his body and into his soul. He watched as the angel unfastened his shirt and slipped it off, casting it aside on the floor.

   “We had to come here,” he sighed as those great, grey wings unfurled into existence. He leaned forward and Dean felt the soft feathers wrap him up tightly as the angel pressed a light kiss to his neck. Dean wanted to believe he could forget the world for a moment in the safe cocoon of Castiel’s wings, turning to wrap his arms tightly around his angel and bury his face against his shoulder. “We had to know we tried.” Castiel’s voice rumbled in his chest and Dean could feel every syllable against his own skin. “You should rest.” Dean did not think he could possibly rest at that point in time, and shook his head gently.

   “Not until we get him back,” he growled lowly. Castiel sighed and closed his eyes, drawing in a long breath that was filled with Dean’s scent. They fell silent for a long while, the gentle rustle of the trees outside in the breeze being the only sound, interrupted now and then by the calls of birds. Dean was unmoving, and Castiel did not dare disturb the man. He cursed himself for not being of more help, for being completely useless in an almost mortal form. Being cut off from Heaven was tiring and incredibly frustrating. If he had been stronger he could have prevented it all, or at least tried to.

   Castiel finally moved, stretching out his wings and rising into a stand. Dean looked up at him with slightly bloodshot eyes as Castiel took his hand and pulled lightly. “You must rest,” Castiel sighed gently. Dean scowled at him and he only glared back. “Whether you sleep or not, I am tired, and I was thinking you would at least accompany me.” Dean’s gaze hardly softened but he nodded once before standing up. The angel’s wings fluttered gently as he readjusted and folded them down to his back before walking over to the bed and climbing onto it. Dean followed him, and Castiel felt a hand firm against the small of his back, pushing him down onto his stomach on the bed. He sighed as he lay down at Dean’s command, fixing his gaze on him as best as he could from where he was laid. Dean was upset and broken and all Castiel could do at that point in time was obey him. Anything to make Dean happy. The man moved to straddle Castiel’s hips, his weight light and balanced, his feet pinning the angel’s legs to the bed. He felt rough hands run up the muscles in his back, fingers digging in lightly against his spine and sending a shiver through his entire body. The hands moved from his back far too soon, making Castiel arch up towards Dean in need and let out a low whine. Dean shushed him gently and slipped his fingers into the long flight feathers on both of Castiel’s wings. Castiel drew in a deep breath as those fingers slid lower and lower down the feathers, Dean moving with them. With the wings folded in against his back, the flight feathers reached the middle of his calves, and Dean’s fingers travelled the whole length of them. Castiel let out his breath in a groan as Dean tugged lightly at the tips of the feathers, sending a tremble straight through him.

   Dean lowered his head and pressed a light kiss to the bottom of Castiel’s spine, just above the waistband of his slacks. The angel moaned into the pillow as Dean pressed his hands to Castiel’s hips, pressing kisses slowly up his spine and starting to run his hands up alongside them. The wings flared out in pleasure, reaching out across the room as Castiel arched up against the man on top of him. The hot lips that were blazing a trail up his spine finally reached the downy feathers between his shoulder blades, and Castiel felt Dean pause there to take in a deep breath, running his fingers against the membrane of his right wing beneath all the fluffy feathers. Castiel gasped and shivered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

   Suddenly Dean’s grip was painfully tight and Castiel let out a cry of pain as he tried to pull away. He was pinned, hands rough and tight against his wing and holding it down to the bed. He thrashed the other one but Dean soon had hold of that too and suddenly he could not move. “Dean,” he gasped, feeling Dean’s weight right in the middle of his back. Hot lips were against his neck, teeth sharp against his skin. Castiel was confused, every fibre of his body telling him to fight back, to get out of there, but something else was telling him to stop. He could feel Dean hard against his back, his hips thrusting down against him, needy and desperate.

   “Shut up,” Dean growled under his breath, his grip making Castiel feel like his wings were going to snap. Castiel’s eyes were wide and wild, his breathing starting to rise and his heart rate picking up. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

   “Dean, please,” he choked out. The man’s hand suddenly left his right wing and moved to push his head down against the bed.

   “I said shut up.” His voice was dripping with what most people would call anger, but Castiel knew it was all wrong. It was all so wrong. He wanted to please Dean, to stop the pain, to give him what he thought he needed at that point, but he could not. He could not let this happen.

   The angel put the last of his strength into his body and pushed up against the man on top of him. He managed to spin, catching Dean in the mouth with a fist and sending him rolling off the bed with an angry yell of some insult, letting go of his wings in surprise. Castiel flared his wings out behind him, the ruffled feathers shivering and fanning out as he moved down on top of Dean and pinned him to the floor by his shoulders, easily straddling him and ensuring he could not move. Dean struggled fruitlessly, trying to hurt the angel but unable to make anything actually stick. Castiel simply held him, wings arched out behind him as an extra balance and downward force. Dean’s string of profanities and death threats slowed down until he was only sobbing, and Castiel finally relaxed his grip a little. The man was not looking at him, his head rolled to one side, and all the angel could do was go on instinct. Humans were complex, he would never understand them, but all he wanted to do was help. He lifted one hand to turn Dean’s face to his and leaned down to press a simple kiss to his lips, his wings finally relaxing down his back but not disappearing just yet. Dean seemed to take a moment, not responding at first, his whole body tense and trembling, but he finally kissed back, bringing one hand to caress the skin on Castiel’s side. The angel bit back a moan, wanting to keep everything simple for once, and withdrew slowly. Dean’s eyes fluttered open to look at him and Castiel swallowed hard. The flash of anger was completely gone, all the need and frustration washed out, and he was looking at Castiel with all the remorse one man could manage. “It’s not what you need,” Castiel said quietly before placing a soft kiss against Dean’s forehead. He felt gentle hands run up his back and tangle in the soft feathers between his shoulders. Dean leaned up to pull him closer and bury himself in the angel, and Castiel let him.

   They moved to lie side by side on the bed, Castiel on his front so his wings could rest idly, one relaxed over Dean. The man stroked the feathers gently, as if he could put them back to normal if he kept trying to organise them. He was laid on his side facing the angel, watching his peaceful face as he slept once more. He had fallen asleep some time ago, one wing draped over Dean protectively. He barely seemed to care about leaving the extra limbs on show now, perfectly happy to leave Dean to preen them while he got the rest he needed. Dean could tend to them all night, smoothing out the areas where he had pinned them, fluffing up the downy feathers gently only to run his hand over them to lay them back down. His touches were soft and light as he ran his hand over the stiffer secondary flight feathers, fingers daring to dip between the feathers just for a moment to feel that breeze-like sensation over his skin. He let out a low sigh as he rested his head back down onto the pillow and edged a little closer to the sleeping angel, trailing his hand down the wing to his shoulder blade and letting it rest there. Castiel stirred slightly but remained asleep, the wing curling tighter around Dean and pulling him closer with a surprising strength. Dean smiled and pressed a kiss to the angel’s forehead before settling down. He had no intention of sleeping, but the least he could do was lay with the angel while he got the rest he certainly needed.

~*~

“Oh, Sammy, what a fine day for a roast,” the sly voice of the devil called from somewhere over near the far corner of the room. Sam had his eyes shut, even though it hardly helped. Lucifer was everywhere. Whether he closed his eyes and saw the face burned into his eyelids, or opened them to see the fidgety creature, still in the form of his old vessel, messing around with one thing or another. He refused to talk to the illusion, refused to give in and admit in any way that this was happening. He had no idea where he was, but the room he was in was pure white, with no windows, and no escape. There was no door, the angels simply appearing inside to poke him and test him. They had only had him a few hours, but already they had made progress. They had smashed what was left of the wall in Sam’s mind, letting Lucifer run rampant in his head, and around the room, and outside the room. Camael was forceful and knew what he was doing, and a single touch from him had sent everything crumbling down. He had laughed, in fact he had more cackled, and professed that his brother needed to learn how to patch humans up better.

   Sam had not said a word since he had arrived. He refused. He could fight off Lucifer in his head, he could ignore him, and then nothing would ever come of this. He had thought maybe they would leave his own mind to do the dirty work, that they would just leave him there until he went insane and the devil persuaded him to say yes within his own brain. He had been so wrong. Camael soon returned, and Sam knew by the sick grin on his vessel’s face that this was not going to be pleasant. “Looks like your best friend is here to do some bonding,” Lucifer hissed in a low whisper right in Sam’s ear, and he could feel the hot breath of hell against his skin. A snap of archangel fingers and he was somewhere else, pinned down securely to an iron table, tilted at an angle that was only for draining blood. The room was wretched and filthy, the stench of it stinging at his sinuses. He would have choked and gagged but he swallowed hard and closed his eyes again. Camael’s laugh was like ice being dropped down his spine.

   After the first cut he thought he could deal with it. It was average pain. He had felt worse in his life and he could do this. He bit back the cry of pain and breathed deep, not wanting to give the archangel the satisfaction of a real response. The second cut was not so pleasant. He felt it go deep into his gut, the blade searing the wound as fast as it cut it. It burned and hissed and the smell of it made him want to throw up. The motion was slow and purposeful, a precise cut right above his naval. He gasped back the cry that had built up inside him, fisting his hands and digging his nails into his palms. He could do this. Dean had managed it; he had had terrible things done to him for thirty years. Sam could do this. He could feel the energy of the archangel keeping him alive, feel it healing the wound just enough to stop his body from failing. Camael cut into him again, sinking the blade in once more just beside the wound he had just made. The blade was still as hot as the sun, or at least that was how it felt against his insides, and Sam had to hiss through his teeth at the sensation. “Just say yes, Sammy,” Lucifer sighed from somewhere to Sam’s right, before immediately switching to his left. “It’s not like there’ll be anything left of you in the end anyway.”

   “Just say yes,” Camael echoed, and Sam had no idea what was real any more. Lucifer seemed as real as the pain that was shooting all through his body, and yet he could not be real. He was locked in a cage. Camael was playing tricks on him, surely.

   “I’m real, Sammy. I’m inside you. You thought my brother could pull that pretty little soul of yours away from me without me hitching a ride?” Lucifer snorted a laugh and his breath was hot in Sam’s face again. He refused to open his eyes, he would not look, and yet he could see the devil right there in front of him. “I am you, Sam. And you will say yes.” Sam choked and kicked his mind into gear, snapping his eyes open to look at the tall, dark haired vessel of Camael. The archangel quirked a brow at him, knife poised to drive straight into his shoulder.

   “Even if I say yes, he’s still in the cage,” Sam said hoarsely, and all hope of that plan working sank with the smug grin that suddenly appeared on the face of the archangel.

   “Stupid child, the gate is being opened as we speak. You will say yes. He will make you say yes, and so will I.” The knife was not hot this time, and the lack of heat meant the blood seeped from the wound and began to trickle away. Sam cried out at this new pain, feeling it shoot from his shoulder straight to his spine and the rest of his body. This was no simple stab, and he felt the blade rip through muscles and tendons as Camael dragged it easily and slowly down the front of his shoulder and onto his chest. Under the power of the archangel, the blade made contact with bone and simply snapped it, and Sam’s vision went white with pain. He was not sure if he screamed, every sense in his body on fire as the blade carved a path across his chest, cracking a few ribs as it went. He choked back the blood that boiled up in his throat, and gasped as the blade slipped out from him. It soon returned, however, in the other shoulder and it carved a path across his chest to meet in the middle. It was excruciating, the unnatural break of ribs beneath the blade making Sam lose sense of what was even happening. He was sure he was screaming, but all he could hear was Lucifer singing in the back of his mind, his breath scorching the skin of his neck.

   Camael performed an autopsy on Sam’s living body, opening him up as if to inspect his organs. Sam wished he could just die, wished there was no incredible force keeping him alive. Camael put down his blades and left Sam open and bleeding, his organs feeling like someone had packed them full of ice. He coughed and choked on his own blood, vision blinded by fire as his eyes stung at the stench of sulphur that was thick in the air. Sam thought maybe he would be left like this, open to the world and in agony, just to think about it, just to stew in his own mind and eventually say yes. Again he was mistaken. Camael needed him to say yes.

   He certainly screamed when the blow hit his right arm, shattering the bone in his forearm with a sickening crunch. The second punch hit his upper arm, and Sam was beyond screaming. Camael kept the pressure on, twisting and mutilating the broken bones. The hits kept coming, taking out his left arm to leave him hanging limply in the iron restraints. The strain on his broken arms was pure agony, and Sam could no longer sense the room around him. “It’ll all be over, just say yes to me. The gate’s open Sammy, I’m coming,” Lucifer whispered gently in his ear, and all Sam could do was let out a heavy sob. He would never say yes.

   Camael broke every bone in his body three times over. He cut him open and strung out his insides at least five times. It was when he started to peel off skin, to break off finger nails and slowly peel off his scalp, that Sam really started to break. Lucifer laughed and sang in his head, in the air around him, the room on fire. The devil was in the room, and Sam had no idea if he was real or not. His hot breath licked at every inch of Sam, inside and out, as Camael tore him apart again and again.

   It was possibly on the tenth time around that Sam felt it, right at the back of his mind. It was a burst of light and energy, something so familiar that he just wanted to fall straight into it. It was too hot to go near, too bright and electric. Sam’s brain was on fire, but he still managed to push everything aside and focus on the light. _Gabriel_ , he knew it was him. The light was so familiar, and suddenly he placed it exactly. It was the same light that had dragged him from the cage, the same little niggling brightness that had sat at the back of his mind keeping Lucifer at bay. Suddenly there was a voice in his head, overpowering Lucifer and drowning out everything, like a choir and yet a single voice at the same time.

   “Sam, I’m coming. Why didn’t you pray, you stupid bastard.” The voice was so different to anything Sam had heard before, and yet it was Gabriel. It was nothing like his vessel’s voice, nothing like anything on earth. _Stay away, Gabriel, don’t do this. I can handle this._ He felt the light pulse, a small surge of energy, and then it relaxed again. “You can’t handle this, no human was ever meant to handle this. There’s a reason the world is full of demons, Sammy.” _Gabriel, stop._ “I’m not stopping, kid.”

   Gabriel did not stop. How he had managed to creep into Sam’s mind was beyond the hunter, but he was grateful. The archangel spoke to him through the torture, drowning out the taunts of the devil with his celestial voice. Hours passed, and the light grew stronger in Sam’s mind, but then so did the pain. It was almost as if Camael knew, and Sam finally opened his eyes to come face to face with a sharp blade pointing straight towards his skull. “You’ve got my brother rattling around in there,” Camael hissed darkly, pale grey eyes flashing dangerously. “Let’s see if we can cut him out, shall we?”

   One cannot conceive what it is like to be lobotomised by an archangel. The pain was beyond belief, and seemed to hit the exact spot in Sam’s mind where Gabriel had been hiding. He felt like his brain was splitting apart, Lucifer flooding in through the openings and crashing right up against him. He was burning, he was dying over and over, and he had had enough. He would end this. He had overpowered Lucifer before, and he would do it again. _Gabriel, I’m sorry. Tell Dean to leave it be for once in his life, tell him… to look after that stupid angel. And Gabriel… leave me down there this time._ He felt the light flare up inside him again, but it was too late, because his mouth had already formed the words that Camael needed. The last thing he remembered was a high pitched squeal of rage in his mind and light overtaking him. It was like a battle of the gods in his brain as Lucifer surged into him and fought with Gabriel’s presence, pushing him down and crushing that light right down into nothing. Darkness fell, and Sam had no idea what happened next.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light flooded into Dean’s vision and he gasped for air, reaching out his unchained limbs to grip onto something very familiar. He buried his fingers in the tan coat and sat up to bury his face in it too.

Dean was woken by the shrill sound of his phone, and found himself tangled up with the angel in the dark, a strong wind battering the outside of the cabin and heavy rain drumming down on the frail roof. He groaned and rolled over, still wrapped up in the warmth of Castiel’s wing, and reached a hand down into his pocket to retrieve his phone. The screen was glaring too bright for him to read it, so he just pressed it to his ear and answered gruffly. “Hello?”

   “Dean, have you seen the news?” Bobby’s voice was strained and quiet, and it immediately made Dean sit up and listen.

   “Of course not, we don’t even have light here,” Dean grunted. Castiel let out a soft moan beside him and flexed his wings, eyes opening slowly to look up at Dean. “What’s happened?”

   “Three major cities have been nearly wiped off the map,” Bobby sighed, and Dean heard the gruff drawl of Crowley’s voice in the background as he relayed more information. “Crowley says the pattern has Detroit in the middle of it.” Dean closed his eyes as the nausea swept over him, and let out a long, shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Dean.” Dean could not answer, hanging up and throwing his phone clear across the room. Castiel pushed himself up so he was sitting beside Dean, stretching his wings out as far as he could to shake out the sleep before wrapping one back around the man and reaching his arms out to pull him closer. Dean seemed reluctant at first, but with a little encouragement he leaned against the angel.

   “He said yes,” Dean said numbly, turning his head to look the angel in the eyes. Castiel still looked a little sleep-addled, but his face saddened nonetheless at the news. “Why would he say yes?” There was a sudden, loud knock at the door and Dean jumped and snapped his eyes towards it. No one knew where they were, no one could possibly know. Dean removed himself from the angel’s embrace and moved to get the knife from the table before stalking over to the door slowly. He hesitated as another knock, louder than the last, rattled the door.

   “Will you open the fucking door?” The voice was distinctly Gabriel, and Dean was puzzled.

   “Why don’t you just fly in?” There was an exasperated cry from outside.

   “When I left, I strengthened the protection on the building to keep out any creature of God that shouldn’t be getting in. I am a creature of God, I can’t get in.” Dean reached for the handle and opened the door, finding a very windswept and wet Gabriel on the other side.

   “Well… come in, then?” Gabriel stared at him with a withering look and reached a hand out.

   “Invite me in,” he said coldly. Dean looked at the hand that was outstretched.

   “I just did.” Suddenly Castiel was at his side, taking Gabriel’s hand and pulling him in through the door. The archangel breathed a sigh of relief and was dry in a snap, running a hand through his hair to smooth it back out. Dean shut the door and stared quizzically at the archangel. “What sort of protection did you put on the place?” Gabriel was flushed and worn out, but his eyes were wild with anger and barely controlled power.

   “When I managed to appear back in here earlier I knew the protection wasn’t strong enough, it didn’t protect against someone as clever as myself,” Dean snorted at that and Gabriel rolled his eyes before continuing, “so I put up some wards, added a few more symbols, and now you’re invisible and impenetrable.” He looked at the shirtless angel who still had his wings manifested, the limbs folded neatly to his back. “So you could, you know, do whatever.” Castiel shook his head and fluttered his wings for a moment before hiding them.

   “We were doing nothing,” he said quietly before going to get dressed again. The brief distraction of the archangel’s appearance had made Dean temporarily forget what had happened, but as he spotted the phone on the floor near his feet, where it had landed earlier, it all hit him like a truck.

   “Sam said yes,” he muttered as he bent down to pick up the device. Gabriel sighed and his hand was in his hair again, fingers trailing nervously through the light brown strands.

   “I know,” the archangel sighed, turning to look at Castiel. The younger angel was dressed now, adjusting the tie around his neck and looking ready for business again. The change in demeanour was incredible, really. Castiel looked nothing like the relaxed being he had been just a few minutes ago, his shoulders tight and his face tugged into a frown.

   “We should move,” Castiel said quietly, and Gabriel nodded in agreement.

   “There’s nothing here now, everyone’s gone to a different party. You know they didn’t even open the gate here? There was another one up north,” Gabriel grumbled away to himself as he started to wander around the room, as if the décor of the piece of crap cabin was interesting.

   “So it was just a trap?” Dean asked angrily, standing stock still beside the door. Castiel rolled his eyes from Gabriel to Dean, that sympathetic tilt to his head. It was almost too much. “Don’t even start, Cas,” he hissed lowly, moving forward to pick up his weapons. Castiel sighed and looked back to Gabriel, the archangel had stopped his pacing and was idly running his fingers over the feather that still rested in his hand.

   “I’ll take your car back to your friend’s place,” Gabriel said quietly. “I doubt you want to drive all that way.” Dean straightened up from packing his weapons into a bag to meet the level stare of the archangel. Gabriel seemed emotionless, for the first time since Dean had met him, and those golden eyes were a little unnerving. Dean somehow could not disagree with him, and nodded slowly.

   “Yeah, thanks,” he said hoarsely before looking to Castiel. The angel was silent and brooding now, not offering Dean any soft gaze or sympathy. “Uhm… if Cas could… give me a lift,” Dean muttered. Castiel did not look at Dean, nodding once in agreement. Gabriel cleared his throat lightly and drew their attention back to him.

   “I’ll just… get your stuff from the motel too, then.” Gabriel left them alone, disappearing into thin air without another word. Dean went about packing away anything he had out in the cabin as Castiel stood silently, waiting. Guilt was starting to creep into him, and as he slung the bag over his shoulder and approached the angel he took a deep sigh.

   “Cas,” he said quietly, and that sharp gaze turned to him, piercing his soul and making him suck in a breath. The angel was clearly not annoyed, or hardly even upset, in fact he seemed completely blank. He guessed it was the angelic way of dealing with things. “Cas look I’m-“ he was interrupted by a warm hand against his cheek and his surroundings suddenly lurching around him. He was stood outside Bobby’s, the sound of raging wind and rain silenced as they stood beneath a clear night sky. He barely cared about the scenery change, that warm palm against his cheek and that celestial gaze still locked onto his own. “Sorry,” he breathed, and Castiel only answered him with a nod before withdrawing his hand and moving towards the house.

   The Impala gleamed beneath the starlight, parked neatly in front of Bobby’s, restored to her former glory. Dean had to admit he was grateful to the archangel, who was resting idly against her bonnet with a chocolate bar in his hand. It was good to see Gabriel eating again, although Dean suspected it was only for his power’s sake. Gabriel seemed to operate best on a sugar high. The archangel pushed himself up to walk up the steps of Bobby’s porch with Dean and Castiel, and none of them said a word as Dean knocked loudly on the door. It opened almost instantly to reveal the judgmental stare of Crowley awaiting them. The demon cocked an eyebrow and took in the three beings stood before him, Dean with an angry glare, Castiel looking as blank as ever and Gabriel being far more interested in the selection of candy he had just conjured than anything that was happening around him, before sighing. “The screw up brigade is here,” he hollered, and Dean heard footsteps in the hall before Crowley vanished from before them and Bobby stepped up into his place.

    The first thing Bobby did was draw Dean into a tight hug, and Dean felt the tears creeping up on him again as he breathed in the familiar whiskey scent of the old hunter. It was like coming home, and it was what Dean really needed at that point in time. “I’m sorry, son,” the older man muttered hoarsely, and Dean nodded mutely as he pulled away and swallowed back his emotions for what had to be the hundredth time that day. Bobby turned his head to look over Dean’s shoulder and see the two angels stood on the porch, Castiel waiting awkwardly and Gabriel with his arms folded throwing a very impatient glare at Dean. The archangel cocked a brow as Dean turned to look at him, and the hunter sighed.

   “You did this one too?” He asked as he reached out a hand to drag him in by his jacket. Gabriel laughed and strolled in once he was over the threshold.

   “Of course, I did it as soon as I could,” Gabriel said. Bobby narrowed his eyes at the archangel, who only frowned in return. “What?”

   “That was you?” the old hunter asked quietly as Dean reached out a hand to Castiel. The angel took it gently and stepped in beside him, standing close as Dean shut the door. Gabriel was sighing exasperatedly.

   “Yes, why?” The archangel seemed to be losing his patience again, but followed Bobby nonetheless as they all moved towards the library. Bobby did not answer his question, and Dean nearly walked straight into the back of the archangel as he slammed on the brakes right in the doorway.

   “Gabriel, what the-”

   “Brother?” Gabriel’s voice was quiet and confused, and Dean tried to peer around the doorframe to see who the archangel was staring at. The only other being in the room was Crowley.

   “Gabriel,” Crowley answered calmly with a small head tilt and a smirk, hands in the coats of his pockets. Dean looked to Castiel, but the young angel was apparently just as confused. Shoving the archangel a little, Dean gained access to the room and went to stand near Bobby as Gabriel finally moved a little closer to the demon. Bobby watched with his arms folded, an unreadable expression on his face, and Dean felt like he was the only one who had no clue what was happening. “Witness protection treated you better, I see,” Crowley muttered quietly. Gabriel was closer to him now, golden eyes scanning over every inch of him as if he had never seen a demon before in his life, but then Dean was suddenly doubting. He dared not speak up, the energy visibly crackling out of Gabriel and along his wings, but he was becoming more and more curious about witness protection.

   “It… it has its perks,” Gabriel murmured, brows knitting into a frown. “Where… what happened?” Crowley let out a long sigh and Dean’s jaw must have hit the floor as shadows started to creep out from the demon, six of them, extending to form wings that dwarfed even Gabriel’s. They were black but Dean could see the shimmer of blue along them in the corner of his eye, much like wings of a raven. Gabriel seemed to take them in too for a long moment before turning his eyes back to the demon’s face. Although Crowley was certainly not a demon, or at least not like any Dean had ever heard of. Sam would be having such a fit at this.

   “I’m good at hiding,” Crowley answered with a faint smile, folding the wings down to his back before ticking his gaze over to the three figures stood some distance behind Gabriel. It was at this point that Dean realised Bobby was the only one in the room who was completely unaffected.

   “You knew?” Dean hissed lowly. The old hunter glanced at him for a moment before looking back to the brotherly exchange.

   “You get to know these things when you pay attention,” Bobby grunted as he moved to sit down at his desk again. When Dean looked back to the pair of angels, or whatever Crowley was, he saw Gabriel draw Crowley into a hug, his small vessel delivering a fierce grip. The other man rolled his eyes a little and hugged him back loosely, his wings vanishing completely from existence again. Dean felt Castiel move from his side to approach the pair, could see the smaller, grey wings of the younger angel spreading out low and loose as if in submission.

   Gabriel was possibly a little teary as he pulled himself away from Crowley and let out a long breath. Castiel was still coming to terms with it all, a frown on his face as his mind worked at lightspeed. He stood before Crowley and looked at him in light of this new reveal, tilting his head before finally opening his mouth to speak. “Azrael,” he murmured lowly, and Crowley nodded his head once in confirmation.

   “I prefer my new name,” Crowley sighed and Castiel nodded in understanding. “Stop cowering.” At Crowley’s command, Castiel’s wings pulled back up to fold against his back.

   “I’m sure Sam would have a boner right now,” Dean muttered, and everyone turned their gazes to him. He felt as if a spotlight had just been turned on him, and suddenly he felt incredibly small. He swallowed and licked his lips before continuing. “But… who are you?” Castiel was actually the one to answer, and, judging by Crowley’s eye roll and Gabriel’s impatient sigh, he was probably the only one who would explain this to him.

   “He is Azrael, the archangel of death. We thought… we thought him dead a long time ago,” Castiel turned to look at Crowley again, and the archangel cocked his head briefly as if to confirm that statement. That was all the information the young angel could offer, and so Crowley finished up the story.

   “My job became a little too much, shall we say, and so I became a salesman.” He grinned at that, rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. “Hanging out with Lucifer was a blast, obviously. He’s so much more fun than _Dad_ ,” he said as he looked to Gabriel. The other archangel only shrugged it off, and Dean knew that Gabriel loved his Father but sided with neither him nor Lucifer. “He got Hell all wrong, though, such a mess. I prefer a more… classy, approach. He’s also a dick.” Those were words they could all agree on, and Gabriel huffed his approval before moving to throw himself down on a sofa. Castiel hovered for a moment around Crowley before returning to Dean’s side. It was all a lot of information to take in, and for now all Dean could do was stare at Crowley.

   “So what… you took over from big brother and now… now you want to keep Hell?” Dean asked dumbly. Crowley shrugged in response.

   “Of course, Hell’s a good thing to have. You should come visit now, it’s gone up in the world.” Dean hated being played with, and threw a glare in Crowley’s direction to try and convey that. The King of Hell merely grinned and turned his gaze back to Bobby, who was pawing over maps once again. “You’ll strain your eyes,” he said simply, and Bobby lifted his gaze to him with a look of mild annoyance on his face.

   “My eyes are fine, for the last time,” he grumbled, and Crowley simply grinned.

   “I’ll go and see who’s up for a bloodbath. I’ll be back later,” the archangel purred before vanishing into thin air. Dean turned his stunned gaze to Bobby but the hunter was already looking back to his maps, a sign that conversation was really not on the table. Deciding that it was certainly better to leave it be, Dean ran a hand through his hair and looked to the angel that was stood beside him, face painted with contemplation. Castiel turned his head to look back at Dean, and his expression softened a little.

   “Well I feel like we just got upgraded,” Dean breathed. Castiel nodded gently and pursed his lips for a moment.

   “We need to plan what will happen,” the angel said. Dean also nodded, and went to sit down on the sofa Gabriel was not sprawled out on, running his hands over his face as he thought. Castiel sat beside him, resting his elbows on his thighs and letting his hands dangle loosely.

   “Right, where do we start?” Dean sighed, looking from the angel beside him to the silent archangel opposite him. This was going to be a long day, and the sun had not even risen yet.

~*~

The only plan that seemed plausible was to gather as many people as they could and try to get to Sam. Gabriel had informed them that Sam, with Lucifer riding around in him, was surrounded by a host of demons and angels. Lucifer had opened another gate in Detroit and the whole city was either possessed or dead. The first gate had luckily slammed shut behind the devil, but with Lucifer on the surface the new one remained open. All they could think to do was try to get through Detroit to the devil, and somehow get him out of Sam’s body. They would certainly need help to do that. Bobby started calling up hunters as soon as they decided their plan of action, and Gabriel and Castiel disappeared to go and round up some angels. They gave themselves two days to gather everyone they could, enough time to see if Sam could overpower the devil for a second time. Dean had a lot of faith in his brother, but somehow he knew they would be going to war with Heaven and Hell in two days.

   Dean spent his time preparing. He pressed enough salt rounds for an army, started getting large barrels of holy water ready, and went about collecting every weapon that was lingering around the salvage yard (which was a lot). Castiel did not return the first night, and for the first time in a while Dean had to sleep alone. He opted for the sofa downstairs, lying so he could watch the moon creep across the sky. He missed the steady heartbeat of the angel and the warmth of his feathers. He hardly realised how much of a huge part of his sleeping pattern Castiel had become until he lay awake for many hours in the silent darkness of Bobby’s house. He had been laid awake for about three hours when he heard the footsteps of the old hunter on the stairs, and a few seconds later Bobby appeared at the door. He had been trying to be quiet, but seeing Dean wide awake staring up at the sky through the window made it redundant. “You too?” he asked gruffly as he walked to his desk and picked up the bottle of whiskey, flicking on the lamp to brighten the room a little. Dean hummed his answer before turning his head to watch his adopted father.

   “Do you think he’s okay? I mean… other than the Lucifer thing. Do you think he knows what’s happening?” Dean’s voice was quiet and a little hoarse from the tears he had been swallowing down all day. It had been a horrible day of numbly preparing everything he could get his hands on, and the absence of Castiel had made it all the more painful. Being alone with his thoughts really never did any good for Dean. Bobby poured himself a glass and swirled it around thoughtfully for a minute.

   “I think the devil’s going to make it the worst experience of that boy’s life,” Bobby said glumly, and Dean almost cursed him for his honesty. The younger man rolled his gaze back to the night sky and took in a deep breath. He was so close to praying to his angel just so he could have some company. Things fell silent for a long while, until Bobby finally spoke again. “When was the last time you slept?”

   “Last night, actually. You woke me up when you called,” Dean sighed, adjusting himself for more comfort and resting his hands behind his head.

   “Last night?” Dean nodded in confirmation, knowing where the conversation was going and hardly caring in the grand scheme of things. “I haven’t slept right for a week, how the hell did you manage it with your brother missing?” Dean turned his head to look at Bobby again, the lamp casing a golden glow on the hunter’s face but leaving his eyes in shadow beneath that ever-present cap. Dean could see the glint of his narrowed eyes, and he felt his chest constrict. He had thought Bobby already knew, and maybe he did, but the idea of actually coming out with it was making him incredibly nervous.

   “Castiel,” he muttered in response, throwing the angel’s full name into the air in the hope that he would hear it, and as if to reply to his words he felt a small surge of warmth through him that could only be a reply to his half-hearted prayer. He drew in a deep breath and once again looked up at the stars that were slowly being blotted out by dark, ominous clouds. Bobby was silent, but Dean could still feel those eyes upon him. Whether they were judging him or studying him he had no idea, and he did not care to look and find out. “Wish he was here, instead of on that damn fool’s errand.” Dean had argued for a long time that trying to find angels that were still loyal to God and the good cause was a waste of time, but Castiel had been insistent. Now Dean was lying cold and alone and unable to sleep, when all he really wanted was the safe cocoon of the angel’s wings so he could forget about Sam being used as a meat-suit by the devil.

   “How long?” Bobby asked simply, and it was more curiosity than anger in his voice. Dean drew in a long breath and finally sat up, feeling his head swim with tiredness. He had been awake about twenty four hours and it was starting to get to his brain.

   “Longer than I thought,” he answered honestly. The feelings for the angel had been hanging around for a long time, and Dean had a hard time pin-pointing the exact time it had gone beyond simple friendship to a relationship where they would willingly die for each other. “Officially just a few days.” Bobby ducked his head in a nod and took a sip of his drink.

   “Well you’re both as stupid as each other, must be a good match,” he grumbled, placing his glass down and pulling a book towards him.

   “Yeah, thanks, Bobby,” Dean had to chuckle, gazing around idly around the room. He was relieved that the conversation had not gone too deep, that the old hunter was apparently perfectly accepting. Dean looked down at the floor, and that was when it caught his attention. It was sticking out from underneath the sofa, and in the darkness it was almost invisible other than a gentle sheen of blue. He reached down and plucked the large, black feather up from the floor, twirling it around in his fingers as he shot a sidelong glance at Bobby. The hunter was preoccupied. “So, Crowley, how did you know about him before the rest of the world?” The hunter grunted in response but did lift his eyes, gaze landing on the slender feather in Dean’s hand and his jaw tightening.

   “You boys aren’t the only ones who have to patch up stupid angels,” he growled lowly. Dean raised one eyebrow and twirled the feather again, staring Bobby down calmly.

   “Well that’s a twist,” Dean smirked, finally tearing his gaze away to look at the feather. It gleamed in the warm light of the lamp, but it still kept its cold, blue sheen, as if it were reflecting a totally different spectrum of light. He still preferred Castiel’s feathers.

   “What else are you meant to do when they turn up bleeding and cursing?” Dean cocked his gaze back to Bobby and shrugged before standing up.

   “Well when it’s the King of Hell you generally tell him to go to Hell,” he said calmly as he moved to the desk and placed the feather down across Bobby’s book. He picked up the bottle of whiskey and turned to go find a glass. Bobby did not reply to him, moving the feather aside to continue his reading as Dean went into the kitchen. He tried to push back the idea that Bobby had touched Crowley’s most sensitive spot, but somehow it was lodged in the front of his mind and he was not sure whether to bleach his brain or grin.

~*~

Hell shrieked and burned around him, and he was staring into the white eyes of Alastair. He was aware of the pain in his body, of the heat that was melting his skin away, but he was unable to scream. He choked on his own blood, on the sulphur thick in the air, on the rancid heat that burned his lungs. He was drowning and suffocating and his ears rang with the sounds of the millions of souls being tortured around him. The deal was offered again, and after all this time he just had to do it. He had to say yes.

   Light flooded into Dean’s vision and he gasped for air, reaching out his unchained limbs to grip onto something very familiar. He buried his fingers in the tan coat and sat up to bury his face in it too. He coughed and choked, feeling completely wretched. His skin felt like ice had been thrown onto it and his lungs were burning with the fresh air, but with every deep breath he managed to take he could smell the distinct scent of wet summer grass and the Earth’s atmosphere. He felt strong arms around him along with warm wings and he sank forwards into the angel. He had no idea where he was, his eyes closed tight as he remained buried against the warm chest of Castiel, but he hardly cared as long as he was wrapped up in those wings. He knew he was safe. “I’m here,” Castiel murmured, rubbing a hand slowly and gently up and down Dean’s back. “I apologise, I should never have left you for so long.” Dean took in a deep, shuddering breath and finally opened his eyes. The room was bright from the daylight streaming through the window and he had a hard time placing where he was and how he got there. He vaguely remembered talking to Bobby, and the old hunter insisting he tried to get some rest on a decent bed, and then he hardly remembered anything. He guessed the whiskey had taken a good effect, and at some point he had managed to get to the bedroom and collapse on the bed.

   Dean moved back so he could look at the angel, taking in the usual dishevelled look he wore. His hair was ruffled in that way that made him always look like he had just climbed out of bed and his tie was askew. He also seemed tired, but that was a given after he had been flying around all over the place. “I missed you,” Dean said hoarsely, loosening the death grip he had put onto the coat and moving his hand to rest against the angel’s chest instead. Castiel smiled gently and let out a long breath.

   “Well I’m here now. I won’t be leaving again,” he said quietly. He looked about ready to sleep for a day.

   “How did it go?” Dean was curious, and hoping that he had not suffered his first nightmare in a long time for nothing.

   “We found the last of my garrison, they are not faithful to Raphael. They have agreed to find more to aid our cause and meet us in Detroit,” Castiel replied. Dean let out a long breath and nodded, leaning forward briefly to press a soft kiss to the angel’s lips. Castiel returned it slowly and lazily, one of his hands tangling in Dean’s hair and sending a shiver down his spine.

   Dean pulled away after a moment and laughed dryly, causing the angel to tilt his head in question. “What are we doing, Cas?” Castiel only frowned at that, and Dean elaborated. “We’re going to Detroit to face the devil, who is riding around in my brother, and we don’t stand a chance,” he said in a wavering voice. Castiel pursed his lips.

   “We have to know we tried,” he said calmly. It sounded like a good enough reason in Dean’s head, and he had to say it was probably the only reason. They had no idea what they would find in Detroit. The news the previous day had said that it was the centre of a massive storm and most of its residents had either fled the city or were presumed dead. Lucifer’s purge of humanity had started, and Dean was starting to think more and more that Sam really did not stand a chance. Castiel smoothed a hand through Dean’s hair lightly, and Dean had to say he was a little taken aback by the increasing amount of very human gestures the angel was displaying. He searched the expanse of universe in Castiel’s eyes and felt so lost, the warm touch of the angel keeping him grounded to Earth. “Azrael is due to arrive soon,” Castiel muttered gently. Dean took a moment to place the name in his post-sleep state, and then nodded mutely as he remembered the archangel walking around as the King of Hell. Not for the first time it struck him that it must run in the family, the rebellious streak and the wish to hide away from Heaven. The archangels were creatures Dean did not even want to begin to understand.

   Castiel stood from the bed and Dean reached out to grab his hand before he moved away. “Don’t you need to sleep?” Castiel swayed slightly but shook his head, looking down at Dean calmly.

   “I’ll be fine. I am feeling stronger today,” he replied quietly, and Dean bit his lip and nodded before standing also. He did not release Castiel’s hand, however, and looked down at him with a steady gaze. “What?” Castiel asked as his brow furrowed into a small frown.

   “You really should rest.” Castiel tilted his head in what was only defiance and Dean sighed. “Just promise me you won’t do much today,” Dean pleaded gently. The angel considered it for a moment before nodding.

   “There is little to do now but wait,” he said quietly, and turned from Dean to leave the room. Dean released his hand and followed, his head feeling like it was full of fluff and the remains of yesterday’s whiskey.

   “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said to Castiel as he made a detour for the bathroom. The angel paused at the top of the stairs to nod and watch him move away before heading down, almost silent on the old steps.

   Dean shut the bathroom door and took care of business before he pressed his hands against the sink, looking at his face in the dusty old mirror. He looked tired, despite sleeping. He guessed that if you felt like you were being flung back into Hell in your dreams, you never really rested much. He sighed and ran the cold tap, listening as the pipes rattled in protest. He caught water in his palms and splashed it up against his face, relishing the cool liquid as it washed away his sleep and refreshed him. He needed a shave, he noted as he ran his hands over his stubble, but he was far beyond caring about his appearance. He flicked the tap off and dried his face on a hand towel before heading downstairs.

   There was a knock at the door just as Dean got to the foot of the stairs, and Bobby was already halfway to answering it. Dean watched as the door opened to reveal Crowley, along with a few others who could only be demons, and Bobby offered a hand out to the archangel. Crowley took it with a gentleness that Dean was not sure was his normal way or simply the way he was with Bobby and stepped into the house. The demons waited outside, the magic that Gabriel had put over the house was apparently a complete barrier to them, as the archangel made his way through into the library. Dean followed Crowley as Bobby said something to the demons outside and then shut the door. Castiel was stood near where Gabriel was sprawled out on the sofa he had brought into the house and they broke off their conversation as Dean and Crowley entered. Dean watched as Castiel’s wings did the strange movement of subordination again in the presence of the archangel, but Gabriel merely offered a nod, his own wings only flaring out to make him look bigger. Brotherly love, it had a whole new context with angels. “Boys,” Crowley greeted smoothly, hands shoved deep into his pockets as usual.

   “Who’s the entourage?” Dean asked calmly as he went to sit down on the free sofa. He felt the soft gaze of Castiel on him but did not look up, his attention fixed on Crowley. The archangel glanced over his shoulder as Bobby took his seat at the desk again and resumed whatever he was doing, most likely researching the best way to banish the devil, still, and then looked back to Dean.

   “Call them my generals, if you will,” he answered politely. “I just came to talk business, to help you come up with a plan that won’t get us all killed.” He did not sit, and that made Dean uncomfortable, so the hunter rose to his feet again and straightened his shirt out idly.

   “What do you suggest?” Gabriel piped up from his spot, some marshmallow treat unwrapped in his hand. His golden eyes never lifted to his brother as he spoke. Crowley watched Gabriel for a long moment before speaking again.

   “I have a set of demons who apparently couldn’t care less if their endless torment actually did meet an end,” he explained softly, the purr of his voice making him seem far too like a cat that was about to claw your face off. “They have offered to enter the city first. Test the waters, as it were.” Dean nodded thoughtfully, looking to Castiel at last. The angel seemed to be taking it in but was far away from the conversation, his eyes distanced and his arms folded over his torso as he leaned against the wall. To his surprise, it was actually Castiel who spoke next.

   “I can send angels around the perimeter. I do not think they will lose their power when they enter, it would be counter-productive for Lucifer’s allies.” His gaze slid to look at Crowley and he continued. “They can lead demon forces in and act as a distraction while we find Lucifer.” Gabriel nodded in agreement and finally stood.

   “I have something that will take Lucifer down if all else fails,” he said quietly, and suddenly he produced an angel blade in his hand. It seemed like every other blade, and yet it was completely different somehow. “It’s Michael’s blade, Castiel’s friend has sticky fingers,” he explained, glancing up to his younger brother. Castiel nodded in agreement.

   “Balthazar has acquired some… interesting items,” Castiel sighed. “Michael’s blade will kill Lucifer.” Dean felt sick at the realisation of what that meant, and when he spoke to object his voice came out strained and faint.

   “But… that means we have to… kill Sam, too,” he said. It was Gabriel who nodded, his face grim and tense. He put the blade away again and sighed, and Dean could not help but think how utterly drained the archangel seemed.

   “It might be our only choice,” Crowley spoke up, and for once his tone was not dripping in sarcasm or sick joy at the idea. Dean was grateful, but it also sent a cold shiver down his spine. Crowley was still a demon to him, and it was hard to think of him as something that was impossibly powerful and incredible in every way.

   “Where do the humans play into all of this?” Bobby spoke up from his desk. Castiel turned his attention to the old hunter and nodded in acknowledgement. It hit Dean then that Castiel was being the soldier he had been born and raised to be. It was sad in a way, but also incredible to see the way the angel took control of the whole situation with ease.

   “The humans you have gathered should go in alongside the demons. Demons are powerless against angels, especially those higher up. We have secured a large amount of blades…” Castiel trailed off and suddenly seemed uneasy. Gabriel kindly finished for him.

   “Raphael saw fit to wipe out a lot of disloyal angels. Their blades were saved, and we managed to get our hands on them. We can spread them out amongst your men, they will have a good defence against the angels then, especially with demon help.” Bobby nodded in agreement. “I see you also prepared enough weapons to at least hold off enemy demons, that’ll help a lot. We just need a delay. If we can stop Lucifer then their whole plan just goes to Hell, literally.” Crowley cleared his throat and brought the attention back to him.

   “We also need someone to close the gate to stop more of them joining the party. I would say I would do it alone, but I’m a pretty familiar face, I’d spend more of my time fighting them off,” Crowley seemed to be directing his words to Bobby, and the hunter huffed to himself.

   “I can do that. I’ll go alone, maybe they won’t notice,” Bobby contemplated, and Crowley growled slightly in disagreement.

   “I don’t think so. I’ll go with you, and you should bring some friends too,” he insisted, and with his wings suddenly appearing on the plane angels normally kept them and flaring out, engulfing half the room in darkness, Dean had to admit it was hard to argue with him. Bobby actually seemed like he was about to bite back a response, but instead settled for narrowing his eyes at the archangel before looking back to his work.

   “Well then,” Dean said quietly, cutting through the tension that had suddenly seeped into the room. Castiel’s wings were stretched down again in that annoying, submissive way and Gabriel was tense and uneasy, his own wings shifting around uncomfortably. Dean was starting to find the ability to sense angel wings a little disconcerting, especially in a room with a total of fourteen wings. Things could get incredibly claustrophobic, and it was bizarre to see the way Gabriel’s wings simply moved through Castiel’s, like ghosts. “I guess it’s settled then. Sounds like we have a plan,” he sighed. Again, it was not much of a plan, but if they could surround the area with their own forces of angels and demons then maybe they stood half a chance. “But one more thing, how will we know who’s on our side?” Gabriel lifted his hand to show a strip of red ribbon hanging from his fingers.

   “Everyone can tie some around their wrist, or their arm,” Gabriel explained calmly. “I’ll sort it tomorrow when we get everyone together.” Dean nodded his agreement and sighed.

   “Alright, good,” he breathed, trailing a hand through his hair awkwardly.

   “I’ll go gather the troops,” Crowley muttered, turning on his heel to leave, his wings shrinking back to nothing once again. Dean had to say he was impressed by the skill. The archangel left without another word, the door closing behind him. Dean let out a long breath, and Bobby finally looked up from his work.

   “I’ve got about thirty hunters meeting us in Detroit,” he explained, and Castiel ducked his head in response.

   “Good,” the angel replied softly. “They will be of great help.” Dean edged a little closer to the angel and nudged him lightly.

   “Hey, fancy going for a drive?” he asked quietly. Castiel turned his gaze to Dean and tilted his head.

   “Why?” Dean felt eyes upon him but ignored the amused gaze of Gabriel and the silently observing eyes of the old hunter.

   “I need to clear my head, and you need to rest.” Dean’s gentle insistence seemed to finally get through to Castiel, and the angel pursed his lips and nodded. “Okay, good, let’s do that. We’ll back in a bit,” he shot a glance over to Bobby.

   “Sure, just leave me here with mouth almighty,” the hunter growled, and Gabriel laughed for the first time in a while as he threw himself back down on the sofa.

   “Oh Bobby, you flatter me,” he sighed as he conjured up a chocolate bar and started to expertly remove its wrapper, as if that were the best part about eating candy.

   Dean and Castiel left them to it, stepping out into the cool October air after Dean had pulled on his boots. He had not bothered with a coat, trusting the Impala to warm up enough for him not to need it. It was getting towards midday, the sun nearly as high as it was going to get, but the air was still crisp and fresh. They pulled out of Bobby’s place in comfortable silence, Castiel leaning up against the passenger door, his gentle breath clouding the cool window as he exhaled. Dean glanced to him now and then as he drove, enjoying the silent company. Somehow no words needed to be spoken, and Dean was glad of that. Not for a single moment did he want to talk about his feelings. He had had enough of talking and explaining things and trying to work out how he felt. There was something calming and comforting about the soft rumble of the Impala, the desolate road around them, and the quiet company of his angel.

   Castiel fell asleep within about twenty minutes, as Dean predicted, but the Impala kept going. He had no idea really where he was driving to, following the same road for miles. He just needed to clear his head, and if he could make Castiel actually get the rest he needed at the same time then it was certainly worth it. His mind drifted to Sam as the trees rolled by on either side, and all he could do was think about how much he had screwed up for his little brother. The usual thoughts of how he should have protected Sam drifted into his head, and he tried to push them down. He had done all he could, and he was determined he was going to get his brother back. He was not ready to live life without him again. Watching him fall into the cage had been the last straw, and the idea of it happening again had shook Dean to his very soul. As luck would have it, something had pulled Sam back out last time, had protected him against all the thoughts in his mind and the memories of what Lucifer had done to him, but Dean would bet that it would not happen again. The first time had been lucky enough. He tried to switch his train of thought, looking over to the sleeping angel beside him and letting out a long breath. Castiel was everything that was right in his world, a perfect constant. Castiel was exactly what he needed.

   Dean drove for hours, returning at around four in the afternoon. As he pulled up outside Bobby’s, there were a few people lingering around outside. Dean knew immediately that they were not demons. They stood rigid and awkward, as if comfortable not doing anything but feeling like they should be doing _something_. Dean could also see shimmering wings appearing from each of them. They all had white wings, and Dean was struck not for the first time at how different Castiel was. He reached across to nudge his angel gently, and Castiel stirred with a small groan, sitting up just as the Impala drew to a halt. His blue eyes scanned over the small gathering of angels and he let out a steady breath. “That’s my garrison,” he explained quietly. “What’s left of them.” He moved to get out of the car and Dean followed the motion, straightening up to cast his eyes over the small gathering again. They were all watching, and Dean noticed the same odd curve downwards in their wings that Castiel showed in front of Azrael. The only angel that did not do this, Dean noted, was the one leaning up against one of the supports on Bobby’s porch. He was different in nearly every way to the other angels, the soft glow of brown feathers folded down to his back instead of white. He was so casual that it actually impressed Dean. He reminded him a lot of Gabriel. “Balthazar,” Castiel greeted calmly as they reached the bottom of the porch steps.

   “Castiel,” the angel greeted jovially, straightening up from where he had been leaning. “How lovely of you to join us.” Castiel offered him a soft glare and Dean noticed how his feathers puffed up in response, if only briefly. Dean was starting to learn this whole wing language, and while it was a definite show of dominance it was also a somewhat friendly gesture.

   “I had to accompany Dean,” Castiel lied smoothly, and Dean did not miss the flicker of amusement on Balthazar’s face.

   “So I heard. We just stopped by to get the plan, but Gabriel won’t speak.” Dean found that very curious. It was rare for Gabriel’s mouth to be closed for a second, but lately the archangel was becoming more and more reserved. Dean could not help but wonder at the cause, and had to say that if Gabriel had gone through anything like the torture Castiel had suffered then maybe the silence was understandable.

   “Of course,” Castiel answered politely, looking to Dean as he did so. “Shall we go inside?”

   Dean helped both Castiel and Balthazar inside, and then went to get a well earned shower. Castiel’s friend was certainly different. Dean also knew for sure that he was a friend. They acted easily around each other, as if they’d known each other an eternity; and Dean would wager that maybe it really had been that long. He thought it best to leave them to discuss their plans alone, with Bobby’s aid. He was trying not to think of it too much, because the very idea of barging into Detroit and facing the devil wearing his brother like a dress was making him want to throw up.

   By the time he returned downstairs, Balthazar was stood beside Castiel, finishing up their conversation. “I’ll make sure they’re ready. We found a few more hanging around with nothing to do, like a bit dropped off,” he muttered. Castiel nodded, devoid of amusement, and in a flutter of wings Balthazar disappeared. Dean went to get a beer from the fridge in the kitchen, and when he returned Castiel was sat on the sofa, leaving plenty of room for him. Gabriel was quiet, his eyes closed and his arms across his chest, but Dean knew for sure he was not asleep. He appeared more deep in thought than anything, and it was a little creepy to Dean.

   “Well, we all set?” Dean asked quietly before taking a swig from the bottle, the cool liquid soothing his throat. Castiel nodded silently and rested back against the sofa.

   “Balthazar is clear of the plan. He will station an angel with each group of demons and hunters around the city.” Dean looked to Castiel, curious.

   “Why won’t you be telling them what to do?” Castiel slid his gaze over to Dean and offered a small smile.

   “I will, Balthazar is following my orders. I shall be at your side, however,” he answered in a soft rumble. Dean held his gaze for a moment, not sure whether he was suddenly turned on by the devotion of the angel or how completely sexy he was when he took control of situations.

   “You should take control more often,” Dean mumbled, earning himself a loud cough from the older hunter. He looked up to Bobby as the man rose from his desk and started heading towards the kitchen. Dean waited until he was through the opening into the other room before shooting Castiel a small grin. The angel returned it with that special sort of smile that warmed Dean all the way through. Once again, Dean was glad he had Castiel.

~*~

Tomorrow could be their last day. Tomorrow they would face life or death, and Dean was starting to bet more on the death side of things. They would set off in the small hours of the morning on the fourteen hour drive it would take to get them to Detroit. Dean had opted for a very early night. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring out of the window at the starlit sky. He heard the shower cut off down the hall and smiled to himself. Castiel had really started to enjoy his showers, even now he was getting some of his power back. He had decided it was best to indulge in everything on the eve of battle, and that included a long, hot shower. He had told Dean that if he was happy, maybe his grace would be stronger, and then maybe he could protect them all with a greater ease.

   The house was silent without the gentle patter of the shower. For a few minutes, Dean felt the familiar pang of loss knowing that his brother was not sleeping downstairs. He did not get to dwell on the feeling, however, as footsteps padded along the hallway outside and Castiel appeared at the door, Dean’s old t-shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders and too-long joggers trailing on the floor. He was towel drying his hair, a look of pure contentment on his face as he moved to sit beside Dean. “Better?” Dean knew his voice came out much quieter than he had intended, but he forced a smile as Castiel turned those ocean-blue eyes to him and actually grinned for the first time in days.

   “Much. I think I shall keep indulging in showers for the rest of my eternity.” His voice was a low rumble, a sound that sent chills straight up Dean’s spine. The closer he had got to the angel, the less he was analysing everything. It had been a long time since anyone had created such a reaction in him, and yet Castiel was not just anyone. The moonlight in those pale eyes made it all the more evident, and Dean felt very humbled again. Castiel’s grin was infectious, and Dean found himself grinning too, despite wondering in his mind how long Castiel’s life would really be. Tomorrow they would face the end one way or another.

   “You should indulge in other things too,” he said mischievously, causing a quirk of the brow from Castiel and a puzzled smile. It was a very human expression, and once more Dean was taken aback slightly by the changes in the angel.

   “And what things might those be?” He tossed the damp towel over onto the other bed and Dean noticed how effortless that was, one smooth, sweeping motion that sent the item easily through the air. Castiel moved like liquid. Dean placed a hand against Castiel’s cheek, marvelling as his eyes darted down curiously towards the hand, ever wondering what was happening, always learning. It was something, among the many things, that he loved about the angel. Despite his vast knowledge of the world and how it worked, small gestures were new to him, and he drank them all in like an angelic sponge. His eyes were back on Dean now, and he felt the warmth build up inside him as a smile crept onto his face once more.

   “You remember when I said I wouldn’t let you die a virgin?” Castiel grinned again at that, nodding and closing his eyes briefly.

   “It didn’t end very well, if I remember correctly,” he said gently, but with a hint of amusement. Dean laughed and shook his head hand slipping lower to rest on the skin between the angel’s neck and shoulder, thumb idly rubbing against the smooth surface. Castiel shuddered at that, but did not move away from the touch.

   “I’m still not letting you die a virgin.” For a moment Castiel seemed lost, eyes searching Dean’s face before he offered his best smile.

   “And what makes you think it’ll go any better this time?”

   “Because this time I’m directly involved, and I’m awesome. Besides, the other night wasn’t so bad, right?” Dean said gently, feeling the gentle pulse of warmth and power radiate from the angel at those words. He saw the shadow of his wings flutter ever so slightly, and a bashful expression on Castiel’s face to express his agreement at that. “Trust me.”

   “To the end.” His words sank deep into Dean and it was all he could do to stop himself from crying like the emotional wreck he was to lean forward and press his lips to Castiel’s. The angel responded gently, twisting to face him and pushing himself forward, always so responsive, and Dean was aware of a hand snaking around his neck. He could feel the dull sense of arousal stirring deep inside and he pushed it down for now, sliding a hand down his angel’s chest until he reached the hem of the battered old t-shirt. Castiel hummed happily into the kiss, and Dean was reminded how creepily experienced the angel was as his mouth was coaxed open by a gentle tongue. He met the probing tongue with his own, and slipped his hand easily beneath the t-shirt, tracing the line of his pants for a moment before seizing the fabric of the shirt and tugging it upwards. It had occurred to him what he wanted to do, and it appeared to have occurred to the angel too as he eagerly helped Dean to remove his shirt. It was tossed to one side before Dean turned and hooked his hands beneath Castiel’s thighs, pulling him easily over onto his lap. Despite all that power bubbling inside, Castiel was light, barely a weight on his legs as he straddled Dean and draped his arms around his neck loosely.

   Dean was not fighting his arousal any more, and it was painfully evident against the fabric of his jeans, but he took his time. His rough fingers made a trail up his angel’s spine, causing Castiel to arch forward against him and break the kiss to let out a gentle moan and bury his face in Dean’s neck. Dean smiled as his hands finally reached the prominent bone structure of Castiel’s shoulder blades and he felt feathers, soft like a breeze against his skin. Castiel bucked against him slightly as Dean trailed his fingers through the fluffy plumage, touching gently against the bone structure and membrane beneath them. One hand rested protectively against the small of Castiel’s back as the other ran along the feathers one by one. He could feel a mouth hot against his neck, trailing kisses along his throat and down to his collarbone, and it was his turn to moan as he pressed his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder. He had not known he needed this, but he most certainly did need it.

   He separated his fingers and slipped a feather between each before sliding his hand all the way down to their tips, and the response was incredible. Castiel bit down lightly, pushing himself impossibly closer to Dean and releasing a noise that Dean was sure was beyond human ability. The sound went straight to his groin and he hissed lightly, scrunching his eyes closed and repeating the gesture. The wings flared wide and brushed the walls on either side of the small room, the feathers shuddering and rustling with pleasure, and Dean could feel the small body on top of him practically vibrating.

   Castiel actually growled at him, a soft noise at the back of his throat, but most definitely a growl. Dean had managed to turn an angel on again. The wings flared again and suddenly Dean was looking at possibly the most beautiful thing he had seen in his entire existence. Castiel was looking right at him, hips pressed lightly to his own and hands placed against his chest, but his eyes… his eyes sent shivers straight down Dean’s spine, and Dean realised this was the first time he had really looked at Castiel in the eyes in these heated moments, realised that when he had brought the angel to climax a few nights ago that he had not seen the true response. The rims of his irises were glowing gently, a pale light that could have been mistaken for moonlight if Dean had not known Castiel so well. He had spent many hours gazing into those eyes, and they were definitely glowing. The pale blue light was entrancing, and all Dean could do was stare up at his partner as he was slowly pushed down to the bed, the wings above him covering them in a stunning canopy of shimmering grey feathers, illuminated by the moonlight filtering in through the window.

   All he could do was stare into those eyes and feel himself suddenly drifting away as Castiel smiled down at him, an honest smile of affection. Dean placed a hand against the angel’s cheek, and had to admit he was slightly disappointed as those shimmering eyes closed against the touch. His disappointment was soon squashed by a pair of gentle lips against his own, and suddenly he just did not have a care in the world. He wrapped his arms up around his angel, one placed just beneath the base of his grand wings as the other slipped down to his waist. He really, desperately needed this, and, judging by the hardness pressed against his stomach, the feeling was mutual.

   He moaned into the mouth that was against his as a hand moved down his chest towards the waistline of his jeans. He bucked his hips up, but Castiel placed a hand firmly but gently to his stomach and held him down, before letting his fingers slip towards the fastening of the jeans. Dean had never wanted anything so bad in his life, or at least that was the thought that ran through his head then. Castiel made short work of the button and the zipper, as if he had been practicing or something, and Dean let out a deep moan as he arched up at the soft touch that now ventured down towards his underwear, glad the constriction of his jeans had been removed and also begging for that hand to go in and do something. It did not, at least not for now, and then the angel was tracing kisses down his throat again.

   Dean felt soft hand tug at the hem of his shirt, and he removed his hands from the angel to remove the item of clothing. He returned to hugging Castiel tight to him as soon as he could as the kisses continued on down his throat and across his collarbone. Dean closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. It was soothing and comforting and he never wanted it to end. He slipped a hand through soft feathers and the angel hummed softly against his skin, sending a shiver all the way down his spine. The kisses reached his hip bone and he drew in a long breath as fingers took hold of his jeans and slid them down. It was slow and only made him impossibly more aroused. He had never imagined Castiel would take the lead in such a situation, and yet here he was happy to let it happen. With his jeans and then his underwear discarded easily, Castiel could trail kisses all the way up Dean’s thigh, making him tremble and moan out rather loudly.

   Dean’s legs were still hanging off the edge of the bed and Castiel was kneeling on the floor, and Dean could not help but think of the thousand ways he wanted this to go. As he felt hot lips against his throbbing manhood it was all he could do to not cry out and wake the whole house, arching up off the bed again and taking in a few generous gulps of air. The kisses were agonisingly slow all the way up his length, and then suddenly he had an angel on top of him again, straddling him easily, shimmers of light flickering in those oceans of blue that he just wanted to drown in. Dean pushed himself up onto his elbows and pulled Castiel in for a kiss as he moved up onto the bed. Castiel moved with him, fluid in motion as he crawled along the bed. Dean felt his head meet the pillow and relaxed down, wrapping his arms snugly around the angel and pulling him in closer. Castiel was lavish with his kisses, mouth gentle and yet somehow firm against his own, tongue running along the roof of his mouth before playing with his tongue. Dean had no idea how he was so skilled, and he really did not care.

   It was a far cry from the need that had driven him to the blowjob a few days prior. It was relaxed and languid and Dean felt no rush for it to go any further. They kissed for what seemed like an age, hands exploring every each of the other’s body. Dean managed to remove Castiel’s slacks and underwear after prising him away for just a minute, and he was now amazed at how well the angel slotted between his legs. He groaned out a choice selection of words as Castiel nipped at his ear, the hand he had placed near Dean’s head gripping lightly at the pillow as the other pressed lightly against the mark he had left when he had raised Dean from the depths of Hell. It pulsed with a faint recognition, a warmth that spread right through him. Castiel planted kisses down his neck, and that was when he felt the hand from his shoulder move down his chest and over his stomach, fingers like electricity against his skin. He gasped out and rocked upwards towards the weight above him, but as before he was held down gently to the bed.

   He knew the angel was just as aroused as he was, he could feel it pressing against his own arousal, and yet he held on as those fingers slid calmly down. “Cas,” he growled out as the hand rested right beside where he wanted it to be, heat seeping from the palm. “You are such a- oh shit!” Any insult he had been about to throw was stamped down by the warm hand gripping him lightly, so lightly it might have not happened, but Dean knew it was there. He could feel it hot and steady against him and he pulled Castiel in for a kiss again, tangling his fingers into his hair as he felt the steady movement start up, tugging him gently and yet so precisely. It was a whole new world of pleasure and he found himself pushing up into the hand that was pleasuring him, trying to set some sort of rhythm. He found Castiel could not be swayed, sliding his hand down to meet his pelvis and pushing him down into the bed. The angel was certainly in control. He returned back to his movement, fingers moving lightly but a little faster, his thumb finding the most sensitive parts possible and pushing every ounce of pleasure out of them.

   Dean moaned into the kiss but held Castiel tight against him, gripping at his hair probably a little too tight. Castiel did not seem to mind, in fact he moaned himself, the vibration travelling straight through Dean. “Cas… Cas I- shit, God,” Dean broke the kiss to gasp out a string of incoherent words, and if Castiel heard the blasphemy he paid no heed to it. Instead he slid his hand down from the throbbing mess that was Dean’s erection and moved to find his entrance. Dean had not hesitated to think about this before, not bothered to wonder what this was actually going to be like, and suddenly all those thoughts exploded into his mind. “Shouldn’t you do something first,” he breathed, and was only met by a grin and warm breath against his ear.

   “I’m an angel, Dean,” his voice was low and soft and Dean simply closed his eyes and took a long, deep, trembling breath.

   “I noticed,” he breathed, before groaning loudly a second later as he felt the invasion. It was warm and somehow nowhere near as bad as he had just thought, something easing the friction and the burn. In fact, he found himself wanting more and more, rocking his hips down against the invading force and gasping gently. “Fuck,” he growled as the angel toyed with him, withdrawing his finger slightly only to push it back in and curl it upwards slightly. A string of obscenities left Dean’s mouth as he tangled his fingers back up into dark hair and dragged Castiel in for another kiss.

   The angel moaned lightly against his mouth and suddenly there was another finger joining the first, and Dean thought he was going to lose it there and then. He had to break the kiss for air, breath coming out ragged and heavy. Castiel occupied his mouth by kissing along Dean’s jaw and throat again, nipping at the soft skin there and dragging another groan out of Dean. “Hurry the… fuck up,” Dean managed to say, rocking his hips towards the hand again and being rewarded with a third finger. He scrunched his eyes shut and was glad of the small amount of energy he could feel radiating from the angel, soothing the burn of the penetration, pulsing through every nerve ending down there and making it all the more incredible. “Cas, shit, Cas,” he groaned, trying to push even closer to Castiel. The angel’s breath was hot on his neck, a stark contrast to the cool sweat that was forming on his entire body. Suddenly the fingers were gone, leaving him feeling cold and wanting, and he groaned out a protest as he pushed his hips up against Castiel’s. This time the movement was allowed, and he felt a firm hand hitch him up slightly. Desperate thoughts crept up about whether he was ready for this or not, whether it was really what he wanted, and then he met Castiel’s gaze and they were all suddenly drowned. It was like looking at moonlight through water, a shifting, shimmering light, dancing around the large dilated pupils. It was something he could only assume was Castiel’s grace bubbling away just beneath the surface, building along with the pleasure. He was disappearing into those eyes, breath tight in his chest and coming out in small pants. He felt the pressure first, gentle against him but firm, and he managed to keep his eyes open, determined to see the reaction to this.

   He could feel the shuddering breath of the angel on his skin, and his own heart racing and feeling as if it would burst from his chest. He let one hand rest on the nape of Castiel’s neck, the other just below his wings, and he braced himself. Castiel pushed forward smoothly, and Dean felt that small pulse of power easing the way, making everything slick and soothing the burn to only leave pleasure behind. He moaned deeply, a sound that felt like it rose from the pit of his stomach, and threw his hand up to the angel’s wing. He buried his fingers deep in the feathers until he felt the soft, warm membrane underneath. It was Castiel’s turn to groan loudly, a sound that was accompanied by what could only be described as a drop in pressure in the room. Castiel pushed in gently until he was entirely inside Dean, and only then did Dean dare to breathe again, gasping loudly, his lungs begging for air. He pulled the angel closer, pressing their lips together once more as he rocked his hips in a sign he was ready, hooking one leg around Castiel to draw him in closer.

   The angel actually whimpered into the kiss, rocking his hips backwards again before sliding forwards gently. He set a steady, smooth motion, and of course it was as fluid as everything else he did. Dean’s grip tightened on the wing and the feathered perfection above him fluttered and shivered, the rustling of feathers joining in with the soft noises of rough breathing. Castiel’s eyes were closed as he drew away from the kiss and buried his face against Dean’s neck, wings closing in against his back as he moaned out Dean’s name into his skin. Dean pushed his hands back into that soft, brown hair and opened his mouth in a silent moan as Castiel rocked into him smoothly, evenly and perfectly. Everything about him was perfect. He pushed his hands through the long flight feathers of the angel’s wing, taking advantage of them being folded. They arched up to aid the touch at the surge of pleasure caused by Dean’s fingers trailing down from the base to the tip of several flight feathers.

   Dean lost track of time as they rocked together, Castiel’s hips fluid against him, setting an infuriatingly slow pace that only made his pleasure grow with each smooth thrust. Dean gasped and moaned and groaned with each push of pleasure, each pulse of energy from Castiel’s grace. Their skin was coated in a fine layer of sweat, their breaths deep and ragged. Dean gripped onto his angel’s wings with one hand and the sheets with the other, at least until one of Castiel’s hands found his and tangled their fingers together, supporting his weight with his other hand as he leaned in for a kiss. Dean gripped Castiel’s fingers tight, so much that it would be painful to any normal creature, but Castiel tightened his grip in return.

   In real time it was not long until Dean felt himself building towards his climax, and yet it felt like they had been entangled for an eternity. Castiel’s hypnotic yet firm rhythm had driven Dean closer and closer to the edge, and now he was standing right on it. He called out the angel’s name into the cool air of the room, and was rewarded with quicker, more powerful thrusts. Dean understood then why the slow rhythm had been set before, as Castiel started to build up towards his own climax. His breath came out shorter and sharper as he pushed up and back onto his heels, dragging Dean closer towards him. Seeing the angel in such a state was almost enough to finish Dean there and then, but he focused on those eyes, shimmering with pleasure, and managed to teeter on the edge just for a little longer. They were both standing on a cliff, ready to fall. Castiel’s wings flared out wide behind him, silver-grey feathers shimmering as they fluttered in the moonlight. Dean reached out blindly for a hand and caught the one that was clutching at his hip. He knotted their fingers back together and threw his head back as Castiel leaned a little more forwards, pushing his free hand into the bed beside Dean. “Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean hissed through the pleasure, barely catching his breath as he felt himself starting to fall. He knew his angel was right there with him, feeling the pressure drop again in the room and a pulse of energy surging through him. He climaxed desperately, thrusting his hips back against Castiel as he felt the warmth of his own seed against his stomach. Almost at the same time he felt the surge inside him from the angel, shooting straight through his veins and lighting up his nerves, and heard the deep, primal moan. It almost made him topple over again, his fingers tightening their grip on Castiel’s hand as the angel sank into him one last time before collapsing forwards.

   Castiel supported his weight on a shaking arm above Dean, opening his eyes to gaze down at the man beneath him. Dean gazed up at him wide-eyed and utterly spent, mouth open as he gasped for air. “The fuck, Cas,” he breathed as he regained a bit of himself. “Where did you learn that?” He quirked an eyebrow and received a genuine smile from the quivering angel that was still inside him.

   “I do things in my spare time, Dean. I made it my own personal mission to learn everything about you,” he said gently, the light that had been so vivid in his eyes starting to fade away as his breathing began to settle.

   “Everything?” Dean frowned but was still smiling. Castiel nodded and placed a soft, lingering kiss on Dean’s lips.

   “I have an intimate knowledge of your internet history.” Dean’s eyes widened at that and he met the ever-so-slightly smug gaze of the angel.

   “I really have to teach you about personal space again.”

   “You don’t seem to mind me invading it right now.” He wished he had never taught the angel free will sometimes, never encouraged him to talk back. However much he wanted to be mad right now, to be shocked that Castiel was actually coming up with something witty, all he could do was kiss him again and gently slide him out before rolling him so they were side by side. Castiel kept his wings out, Dean was pleased to notice, and stretched one out behind him so it was not pinned against the bed before bringing the other over their bodies to wrap around them. The feathers were warm like a gentle summer breeze against Dean’s skin and he grinned as he slid one arm underneath the wing and around the angel’s waist. Castiel was cooling off, his skin moist from his exertions, and Dean let his hand run slowly up and down Castiel’s side as he gazed into those deep pools of blue. They were back to their normal colour now, only with a small rim of light at the edges as if to express his happiness.

   They barely fitted on the small single bed, but intertwined together as they were they hardly cared. Castiel had one leg rested between Dean’s and the rest of him was pressed lightly against his lover. Dean could feel him trailing patterns on his chest, fingers warm and soft against his cool skin. He felt the touch trace his muscles, as if mapping out every aspect of his body. He took this chance to examine the angel a little more closely, eyes sweeping down over the well-toned yet slender torso that rested half against him, turned away slightly so the moonlight caught the damp skin and lit it up. Castiel was beautiful in the moonlight, reminding Dean yet again that he really was something else. He let his fingers slide across the angel’s skin, his head propped up on his arm with Castiel’s head against his chest. His fingers ran over Castiel’s prominent collar bone before sliding over his smooth chest, his eyes taking notice of the mark just above his right nipple, a mole or a freckle of some sort.

   He paused a moment to contemplate that a creature of such perfection carried such small things that would be seen as a blight. Yet he admired it. Castiel would not be Castiel without his quirks, without his imperfections. He was no longer a mindless machine, a soldier of the lord with no purpose but to follow orders. He was imperfect in the eyes of Heaven, and yet to Dean he was perfect in every way. Castiel murmured something against Dean’s chest as Dean let his hand slide gently down to the angel’s waist again, little breaths of air touching his skin in the form of feathers. He was comfortable with Castiel’s wings wrapped around him, and yet he was not ready to just fall asleep there and then. Apparently Castiel was, however. Dean felt him heave a gentle sigh and rock a little closer, wrapping an arm protectively over Dean to accompany his wing. Dean would let him sleep, would watch over him until the morning came. Tomorrow could be their last day, and he could think of no other way he would like to spend his last night other than curled up with his angel.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I really wish I could believe you, but I lost my faith a long time ago.”

They were up before the sun, the sky still dark and speckled with stars. Dean had woken up tangled up in the arms, legs and wings of an angel, and trying to get loose had been a task. Castiel had clung to him, reluctant to wake up at such an hour, but by the time Dean returned from his shower the angel was awake and getting dressed wearily. Dean pulled him close just as he was fastening his shirt, burying his nose in the dark hair that smelled like summer rain and closing his eyes. Castiel swayed into him gently and placed one hand against the small of his back. Dean sighed softly and placed a kiss to the angel’s head, withdrawing just enough to look into his eyes. The angel looked at him calmly, but his eyes portrayed the sympathy he felt. Today could be their last and there was no way of knowing what would happen in Detroit. Dean rested a palm to Castiel’s cheek and the angel’s eyes slid shut in response. He tilted Castiel’s head gently and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss. Castiel sighed gently and kissed back, rocking forwards against Dean and slipping his other hand into Dean’s hair.

   Dean lost himself in the scent and taste of Castiel for what felt like an eternity, and when he finally pulled away he felt the crushing sense of what was to come settle back down onto him. In that moment he wanted to crawl back into bed with the angel and forget the world, but he knew that Sam was out there. He had to save Sam. He took a deep breath and smoothed out the mess of hair on the angel’s head before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and stepping away. Castiel watched him move as he went to pull on his shirt and boots, and Dean could feel those ever-watching eyes upon him. It had stopped being creepy a long time ago, and now it was more of a comfort to know he was being observed every minute of his life. He was never alone.

   When they arrived downstairs, Bobby was talking to Gabriel. The archangel seemed even more expressionless than he had the day before. He turned his golden eyes to Dean as he entered and offered him a small nod in greeting. “We ready to go?” Bobby asked quietly. Dean took in a deep breath and nodded, glancing to the angel at his side. Castiel was back to his business-like self again, expression blank yet serious and his shoulders and wings set in a proud posture. He was nothing like the celestial creature that had broken apart the previous night, grace leaking out into the air, wings flaring in pleasure. Gabriel looked at Castiel for a long moment before speaking quietly.

   “Castiel, help Bobby load the holy water, I wish to speak with Dean.” He turned his eyes to Dean again, and his way of speaking and the eternal gaze he set upon the man reminded Dean in an instant that this was one of the most powerful creatures to walk the Earth. Castiel’s wings actually dipped in submission for the first time in front of Gabriel, and he bowed his head briefly before leaving with Bobby.

   As soon as Castiel and Bobby were out of the door, Gabriel was invading Dean’s personal space with a truly terrifying glint in his eye. Dean would have cowered had it not been for his own bull-headed attitude. “You should really be grateful you’ve got me hanging around,” Gabriel hissed under his breath, his wings writhing around at the edge of Dean’s vision. “You could have gotten us all killed last night, lighting him up like a fucking beacon!”

   “What?” Dean felt hands against his shirt, fisting it tight and shoving him back against the nearest wall. Gabriel stared him down with an angry fire in his eyes.

   “I had to cover up your little escapade last night,” he growled. Dean sucked in a breath and stared wide eyed at the archangel. Gabriel’s face actually twisted into a small sneer. “He may be cast out of Heaven but his grace is still strong, any angel in a thirty mile radius would have felt that.” Gabriel gave him one last, forceful shove before releasing him, and Dean let out a long breath and closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall.

   “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. When he opened his eyes again Gabriel was running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.

   “No, no… actually it’s good, I guess. You could have just picked a better time,” he sighed, covering his eyes with his hands. “A much better time.” Dean swallowed and nodded, straightening up from the wall. “I guess at least you had someone to share your last night with.” The pain in the words had Dean taken aback, and for the first time he saw the real creature that was Gabriel, a being that had been alone for an eternity and cut off from his family for an unknown amount of time. He also noticed the golden feather necklace that now hung around his neck, and felt like a bucket of ice got poured into his stomach.

   “We’ll get Sam back,” he choked out, and Gabriel finally removed his hands to look at Dean, an eternity of regret and pain reflected in his eyes.

   “How can you have so much faith in that notion?” The archangel’s voice was quiet and dark, dripping in disbelief. Dean bit back the emotions trying to overtake him again and straightened up.

   “Because I have faith in Sam, and Cas, and Bobby… and you. Nothing’s gonna stop us today.” His words certainly did not sound as sure as he would like them to. Gabriel tilted his head in that way all angels seemed capable of.

   “I really wish I could believe you, but I lost my faith a long time ago.” His words were almost inaudible, and when he finished speaking he moved to leave the room. Dean watched him go, standing alone in the house with his thoughts for a few minutes. He wondered if all archangels went that way, spiralling down through what could only be called depression until they had nothing left. Azrael even refused to show what he truly was, and it was as though his true name burned him. For once Dean felt an overwhelming and surprising sadness towards Gabriel, and when it mingled with his own grief he had to rub uselessly at his cheeks to rid them of the moisture that fell from his eyes.

   Gabriel rode with Bobby to Detroit, leaving Dean and Castiel alone in the Impala for the duration of the drive. They sat in comfortable silence as the radio played the various channels they picked up across the country. Eight hours into the drive they met up with some more hunters and stopped to eat, and at last Castiel spoke to Dean again. Away from the archangel and the hunters, he dropped into the soft stance Dean had learned to love. “This would have been quicker if you had just let us take you,” Castiel said quietly, and Dean scoffed gently at him.

   “Sure, that would have ended so well. My baby was there for the last time, and she’s gonna be there this time too,” he explained quietly, eyes darting over to the black Impala. It hardly seemed right to consider leaving her parked up at the end of the world. “Besides, we have a lot of luggage, and these guys weren’t prepared to go there alone,” he muttered as he ticked his gaze towards the small group of hunters. He recognised a few of them, and they were all men that had been made hard and cold by hunting the things that lurked in the dark. It was sad to say that some of them probably welcomed the end of the world, ready to face it with a shotgun and a bottle of beer. Castiel nodded in silent understanding and looked at Dean with those soft eyes. “Don’t,” he laughed quietly, lifting up a hand to stop whatever comforting words the angel was about to speak. Castiel tightened his jaw and nodded again.

   “We should move,” Castiel murmured, turning to leave. Dean reached out to take his arm, stopping him in his tracks. The angel looked to him again and Dean tried to smile.

   “I’m glad you’re here, Cas,” he said quietly. Castiel nodded and the corners of his mouth twitched up slightly.

   “Me too,” he replied. Dean walked with him back towards the group of hunters.

   They were all ganging up on Gabriel, most of them having never met an angel before let alone an archangel. Of course Gabriel took it with ease, answering their questions calmly. “You’ll all be accompanied by angels and demons,” he explained, peeling open a chocolate bar as he did. A young man who reached about the same height as Dean but was much leaner spoke up.

   “How are we meant to take down the demons? We can’t exorcise them all.” Gabriel shot him a slightly exasperated look.

   “That’s what angels are for,” he shot back.                               

   “And then who takes down the angels?” An older man with a large beard spoke up.

   “You do,” Gabriel said with a grin, producing a blade out of nowhere. “With these. We have a whole stash of them.”

   “And what good will that even do? How does this defeat the devil?” The scrawny one was speaking again.

   “Because while you’re doing that, we can get to him. As soon as he’s eliminated his followers will crawl away,” Gabriel’s voice was dark as he started to lose his patience.

   “So, what? We’re a distraction? Bait?” Dean was starting to wish scrawny would shut up as his words struck a raw nerve in him. Bait. Memories of the alternate universe Zachariah had put him in flashed into his mind. He would not let them just be bait.

   “You’re the most important part,” he said, drawing all the eyes to him. They had clearly not noticed him stood with the angel at his side, a few of them raising their eyebrows. “Without you this would be impossible.” Bobby nodded his approval and the hunters muttered between themselves. “When you get there, set up traps, corner them, exorcise them, kill them, it’ll all make it easier.”

   “Angels will be accompanying all of you, they will follow your orders,” Castiel said calmly before looking at Dean. “We really should move,” he insisted gently. Everyone parted and returned to their vehicles, and they hit the road again with a convoy of six cars. Dean would make sure it was worth it. He was not the man who sent his friends and family into the jaws of the devil. He was a different person altogether.

~*~

The weather deteriorated as they neared Detroit. Rain and hail battered the cars and made it nearly impossible to see, but they kept going. Dean looked across to Castiel as they sped along behind Bobby’s truck, a vehicle he had decided was more appropriate for the situation, and the angel turned his gaze to meet Dean’s. “You ready for this?” he asked the angel quietly. Castiel stared at him for a moment before returning his eyes to the tail lights of the truck in front.

   “Is anyone ever ready to face the devil?” the angel replied softly. Everything fell silent for a moment before he looked back to Dean and spoke again. “I will follow you until the end. Wherever you go, so shall I.” Dean had no idea how to respond to that, and so only nodded and fell into silence. Castiel would follow him until the end. Again he was hit with the memory of the future he witnessed. Somehow he just knew that Castiel had been aware of his fate. The angel had known exactly what Dean had been sending him into. He had accepted it because he would always follow Dean. Dean swallowed hard and rubbed at his eyes, causing a concerned stare from Castiel. “Dean?” He sniffed and looked over to the angel, trying to force a smile onto his face.

   “Don’t leave me when we get there,” he choked out. Castiel frowned and tilted his head in confusion. “Just… don’t leave my side, okay?” He nodded slowly and reached a hand over to Dean, fingers wrapping lightly over his shoulder.

   “I won’t, Dean,” he answered honestly, and Dean swallowed back the tears and managed a smile.

   “Good, that’s… good.” Just as he finished speaking, the rain suddenly stopped. He stilled the wipers and looked up at the sky. The clouds dropped off into a clear, endless blue that spread out in front of them over Detroit. The dark rain clouds circled the city, leaving nothing but fine weather in the middle. The sun was starting to set, making the blue sky darker, and the city looked deceptively beautiful. “Well, at least we won’t get wet,” Dean tried to joke, glancing across at the angel again. Castiel was looking up at the sky still, rocked forwards in his seat.

   “He knows we’re coming,” he said simply, and Dean actually scoffed at that.

   “Of course he does, what did he expect us to do?”

~*~

They were here. Of course they were. Lucifer lifted his eyes to the sky, taking in the stars that were starting to speckle the blanket of darkening purple that hung above him. God’s creations were truly beautiful, but Lucifer could not bring himself to feel for this latest creation. Humans, they crawled about on useless legs and destroyed everything God created for them. They killed and polluted. They spat and defecated on everything that had been given to them. They were putrid.

   This one was different. Sam was different. He had so much heart, it was clear he had been destined for Lucifer. He could still feel the human writhing around inside, trying to break free of his bonds. _Hush, Sam, everything will be okay, I promise._ He felt the anger flare up in the human soul and only smiled as he continued to gaze up at the sky. _You know, Sam, we’re not that different, you and I. Big brother always got the limelight, daddy never really approved of us, our only problem was loving too much. You care too much, Sam, and that’s why this is hurting so badly. You care way too much. Do not feel pity for humanity, they brought it on themselves. They defied God, they destroyed everything He laid out so carefully for them. They were created in my Father’s image and then they defiled it._

   He felt the soul strain against its boundaries and finally gave the man inside some breathing space. Sam’s tortured scream echoed loud and clear throughout the vessel, but not a sound escaped Lucifer’s calm lips, the same lips that tugged up into a smile. “They’ll stop you,” Sam’s voice growled out. He must have been in pain, it was hardly surprising considering the personal little Hell Lucifer had created for him. _Let’s watch them try, Sam. You think a few humans are going to stop me? Honestly._ “Dean would take you down in one go.” _No he wouldn’t. I’m in you, Sam, he wouldn’t think about it._ “Gabriel would,” Sam ground out, and the grit and determination in his voice was interesting, but it was the name that made the angel quirk a brow. _Gabriel? I killed him myself._ “Funny, that.” Lucifer stood swiftly from the bench and brushed down the clothes he was wearing; nothing fancy, just some smart pants and a dark red shirt to go with the white jacket. He had ditched the filthy hunter clothes as soon as he was in the body.

   Lucifer looked around at the park he was stood in, the flora looking particularly pleasant with a little help from him. About a hundred yards behind the bench he had been sat on, the gate he had opened to Hell poured out heat and a steady stream of demons that were free to wander between the two worlds. God had charged him with looking after the souls, and while he had punished them for their deeds, he still regarded them as precious things. They had learned their lessons, they were loyal to him, and under his guidance they would help to return Earth to its natural beauty. They would ensure Earth was devoid of human life.

   The devil’s eyes narrowed as the wind changed, and the calls of the demons that surrounded him altered. There was panic in their voices, a few of them even diving back down into the pit. They shrieked about the demon Crowley, the King of Hell coming to protect his throne, and Lucifer closed his eyes and flexed his shoulders. His brother hid beneath that façade, lying to everyone around him, but Lucifer knew the truth. He would slay him like a dog. One demon went hurtling past him with a wild shriek, and amongst the noise Lucifer made out one word. _Gabriel._ The human had not been lying. “I told you,” Sam hissed at the back of his mind, and Lucifer shut him down promptly. Azrael and Gabriel had been given their chance to align, to be loyal to him and their Father. They had refused. He would slaughter them both like the disobedient dogs they were.

~*~

   They pulled over on the side of the road roughly three miles from the edge of the city. There was a small gathering of hunters there already; those who had been brave enough to travel in alone. As they stepped out of the car, the rest of Castiel’s garrison arrived, fluttering in with ease and standing around as awkwardly as ever, Balthazar at the front of them. They were a small bunch, but it would simply have to do. Gabriel stepped up with a handful of red ribbons and with a snap of his fingers they transferred to the bodies around him, tying around their upper arms. Dean received his ribbon and moved to stand beside Bobby. “We’re missing a few,” he muttered to the older hunter.

   “He said to call,” Bobby huffed, looking up to the sky. He fell silent for a moment before he spoke again. “I pray to the archangel Azrael.” As soon as he spoke the name, Crowley was at their side, and there were possibly another two hundred bodies around them.

   “Bobby,” he purred out before looking to Dean. “Is this everyone?” Dean nodded and Crowley sighed, looking around at the demons he had brought with him. “I guess it’ll have to do.”

   They unloaded their weapons and everything they needed and gathered in small groups on the road. Castiel distributed the angels between the groups, finding it easier after a few more turned up to help the cause, and Balthazar made sure each group had at least three angel blades. There were more demons than anything else, and Dean had to say he was surprised. Apparently they preferred the management of Crowley. “Are we all clear on the plan?” Castiel was stood on the hood on the Impala, his voice carrying out across the group easily. They all nodded meekly. Castiel looked to Gabriel, and the archangel nodded before snapping his fingers. The groups in front of them disappeared into thin air, being sent to their positions around the city. They were left with just Dean, Bobby, two archangels, Castiel, two hunters and two of Crowley’s generals.

   They managed to get into the city without hindrance, but could hear gunshots in the distance as the other groups took on the forces they encountered. Dean was aware their approach was too easy, and simply knew that they would be the ones to run into Camael. When they reached the densest part of the city, they all gathered in an alley beside a bank and settled down to plan. “Lucifer is in the park two blocks over,” Crowley muttered. Gabriel nodded in confirmation.

   “He’s right near the gate, it’s going to be hard to make a distraction,” the other archangel sighed.

   “I don’t think it’ll matter, it’s going to be chaos,” Bobby added, checking the barrel of his shotgun before cocking it again.

   “Bobby does have a point. I say we just go in there and do what we can. There’s no use planning against something we have no idea about,” Dean sighed, checking his own gun.

   “I’ll go for Lucifer,” Gabriel muttered, causing Dean to look up and stare at him. “Don’t even think it, Dean. You would never be able to kill him. I will not make the same mistake again.”

   “He wasn’t wearing Sam last time, Gabriel,” Dean hissed, and the archangel bowed his head.

   “I’ll do whatever I have to do,” he murmured. Dean could not argue with him. Every part of him wanted to be the one to do it, but deep down he knew Gabriel was right.

   “I’ll be right there with you,” he said quietly. The archangel nodded and looked down at the blade in his hand. There was the sound of voices from the street beyond the alley, and the small group pressed up against the wall in preparation. “Alright, guys, this is it. Push to the middle, don’t stop moving, don’t go off alone,” Dean growled as he moved beside his angel.

Castiel was crouched at the end of the alley, blade in hand and ready to move on and face whatever was out in the street. Dean took in the sight and it made him sick to his core. While Castiel may have been in good condition, still in that familiar coat and with a clean white shirt, it reminded him too much of the memory of his future self sending his best friend to his death. Had he known his feelings in that version of the future? Were he and Castiel lovers? How could he have even imagined sending him to such a fate? He reached over from where he was crouched beside the angel, putting a hand to his arm to grab his attention. “Cas… I just wanted… I wanted to say that… I love you,” he muttered. The angel stared at him a little wide-eyed, stuck between the professional soldier he was at that point and the lover he had been the previous night. “I just wanted you to know that,” he whispered. Castiel nodded slowly, and Dean leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, ignoring the curious eyes that were lined up along the wall behind him.

   “I love you too, Dean. I will be with you until the end,” the angel returned as they pulled apart.

   “To the end,” Dean choked with a sad smile, watching as Castiel turned back to the street.

   Castiel led the way, lunging out to burn a demon out of its vessel as it reached the alley. As the rest of them moved out from the shelter of the alley, more enemies appeared around them. Of course they had all been waiting for them to arrive. Dean sank the demon knife into the closest demon as Bobby and the other hunters started firing salt rounds into the oncoming demons and tossing holy water onto them to push them back. Dean glanced over his shoulder to see Crowley, with six black wings flaring out behind him, easily taking out three angels in a row with his own blade. Gabriel was at his side, lighting up any demon that dared to come close enough, his golden wings flowing with every movement he made. Dean stayed at Castiel’s side, fighting any demon that came within range. He threw one down to the ground, sinking the knife in a second later as Castiel drove his own blade into an angel that was lunging for them.

   It was slow going but still doable as they pushed forwards through the non-stopping onslaught of demons and angels. Dean’s muscles began to burn as he fought tooth and nail with any demon that came near him, demon blade in one hand and angel blade in the other. As soon as any enemy angel approached, he sank the blade in before continuing on. He kept Castiel close, but also kept an eye on the others. Dean was amazed at how well the three hunters were doing. Bobby led them forwards but always stayed behind Crowley, using the archangel as a shield against the onslaught of demons as he and the other two hunters took out angels with the blades and drove the wall of demons back with their guns.

   It was all going so well until a sudden silence fell around them. The demons suddenly shrank back, a lot of them simply disappearing as others backed up into the shadows. The angels that were fighting them fluttered out of sight, and Dean span around to see Camael stood in the centre of the road, right in their path to the park. Gabriel was suddenly at Dean’s side, a little flustered from his efforts to hold back the demons but otherwise completely unharmed. Castiel was on Dean’s other side, and he was also dimly aware of the dominating presence of Azrael behind him. Camael hardly stood a chance, surely, but there was one deciding factor that Dean suddenly realised. Gabriel and Castiel were petrified of him. Neither of the angels made the move, but the dark figure of Crowley moved to appear in front of him, those crow-like wings fanning out in dominance. “Azrael,” Camael hissed lowly. “Come to defend your honour, I see.” The archangel was truly a vile thing. His pale, lifeless eyes bore deep into the other archangel and he looked like a particular brand of creep that wandered around slightly up-market bars to pick up women only to murder them later on.

   “What little of it I have left,” Crowley purred, and Dean saw the glint of his blade in his palm. Somehow he just knew this would not end well.

   “You side with these pathetic rodents?” Camael was practically spitting in his fury as he cast a glance around at the small group of hunters.

   “They’re good for business, don’t you think?” Crowley, ever the businessman. Camael smirked, a horrific look on that smarmy face, and gave a small wave with one hand. Angels suddenly appeared again, and Dean found himself with his face pinned to the filthy ground, a knee firmly pushing into his back. He could just see another hunter go down beside him, and presumed they had all received the same fate. The demons were not so lucky, being burned from their vessels before they even had the chance to defend themselves. They may have just been demons, but they had fought fairly and bravely, and Dean could not help but think they deserved better than that.

   And so the angels were the only ones left standing. Dean managed to twist his head so he could see more of what was happening. Crowley was stood with Gabriel and Castiel at his side, and Camael had the most twisted grin on his face. “Shall we?” Crowley’s voice was full of a gentle confidence, and Dean’s gut twisted. This was so not going to end well. The archangel of death lunged forward and met blade to blade with Camael, it was all a flurry of wings and dark suits, the slide of metal on metal chiming through the empty street. Gabriel and Castiel seemed hesitant, and it was actually Castiel that moved forwards first. He went to try and sink the blade in, but was easily tossed aside, and it was Gabriel’s turn to try his tricks. He was fast and clever, but as soon as Camael got a lock on him he managed to pin him down to the ground with just his power.

   Apparently the archangel Azrael was a tricky customer to take down. He could not be thrown or pinned, and Dean just had to admire that. Everything actually looked promising until Camael managed to get the upper hand and spin behind Crowley. Dean watched in mild horror as he reached up towards the shadow of Crowley’s wings and gripped hard. He growled out in pain but it took more than that to stop him, and with a huge burst of power he was suddenly free of Camael’s grip and was on the other side of the street. He fell to the floor, nonetheless, and Dean heard a disheartened groan from Bobby, who was pinned just off to his left.

   Gabriel was back again, artful in the way he ducked and dodged around, but Dean just knew he was started to lag. He was not as fast as he usually was, and it was getting more and more dangerous. Dean had to do something. He caught the gaze of the hunter beside him, the scrawny one, actually, and gave him a short nod. The gesture was returned, and Dean started to mouth a countdown. _Three… two… one_. They pushed up at the same time, taking the angel’s on top of them by surprise and sending them skittering back just enough to allow the hunters to grab their blades from the ground. Dean ducked beneath the angry punch of the angel and swung back to sink the blade into its chest. He heard deep boom and a smash from Camael’s direction and turned to see Gabriel tossed to the opposite side of the street to Crowley, sprawled out on the ground and actually smoking from whatever had blasted him away. Dean watched in horror as only Castiel stood in front of the archangel, blade at the ready and wings flared out as far as they would go. He was dwarfed, and yet he never even flinched as Camael lunged for him.

   Dean had other things to think about. Bobby had managed to get himself up from the ground, but the angels were suddenly rushing to stop them. Dean fought alongside Bobby and Scrawny, forming a triangle to keep their backs covered, but kept a constant eye on Castiel. So far he was doing well, and Dean was glad to see Crowley getting back to his feet, one of his wings looking a little worse for wear. Dean span to take on an angel that had crept up on them, and the little bastard was nothing if not quick. He just sank the blade into the little dick’s throat when a sickening scream reached his ears.He froze, his insides turning to ice, and slowly turned around. He knew before he looked where the scream had come from, and his eyes landed on a sight that made his stomach twist violently.

   Castiel was pinned to the floor, a foot on his spine to hold him in place. Camael held a wing in one hand as the other wing thrashed around uselessly. The wing that was held was certainly not meant to bend that way, and Dean could see light and blood pouring where the skin had been ripped open by the broken bones beneath. Castiel cried out again, his voice cracking into a sob as Camael twisted the broken limb and made the bones crunch loudly. Dean did not think, he just moved. His legs had a mind of their own as he sprinted towards Camael, blade lifting up in an attempt to swing it at the archangel. Camael would certainly not fall for that. He twisted at the very last moment and caught Dean by his throat, lifting him clean off the floor and staring at him with those soulless eyes. He twisted Castiel’s wing again and Dean heard a wrecked sob from the young angel that was like a knife to his heart. It reminded him of the night Castiel had turned up in the motel room, battered and bruised with his feathers ripped out. His mind flooded from that thought to the memory of them on the sofa in another motel room, to them enjoying a sunset, and also a sunrise, to the beautiful creature of God that had shown him a whole new meaning of love. He thought of it all just as his vision started to spark at the edges and the colour drained out of the world as his brain begged for oxygen. He gagged and choked, but kept hold of the blade in his hand. He would need it when he killed this son of a bitch.

   Dean was sure he was about to pass out when Camael’s grip suddenly relented and the archangel jerked back as if he had been electrocuted. Light was pouring from his leg where Castiel had managed to reach around and dig his blade in. Dean coughed as he collapsed to his knees, but he was not done yet. He took advantage of Camael’s momentary surprise to launch back to his feet and throw himself forward again. He brought the blade up and this time he made sure it hit home. Camael’s mouth opened in surprise as light started to pour from him. “This is for all those angels,” Dean hissed as Camael looked at him with dying eyes. “This is for Cas.” The archangel shook beneath the blade and Dean wrenched it back out again, watching as Camael sank to his knees and light began to burst out of him. Dean covered his eyes as the angel exploded in light and noise, dying with one last, shrill shriek.

   He shielded his eyes until the light disappeared and there was a solid thud as Camael’s vessel fell to the floor. He looked at the corpse for a minute before turning his gaze to Castiel. His wing hung limp and useless at his side as he pushed himself up onto all fours, hissing at the pain in his body. Dean fell to his side, ignoring the raging battle around them as he turned Castiel’s face to his. “You okay, Cas?” The angel closed his eyes, drawing in a long, shuddering breath. “Stay with me, Cas,” he muttered, smoothing his thumbs over the angel’s cheeks. He opened his eyes again to look at Dean, and widened them as he noticed what was behind him.

   “Dean!” Dean was already spinning to meet the threat as soon as he had seen the look on Castiel’s face. A demon had tried to take the opportunity, but it met the wrong end of the knife as Dean sank it in deep before throwing the body down. He looked back to Castiel to see the angel slowly pushing himself up, forcing his wings out of existence again, but leaving the tears in his clothing where they had manifested. Dean helped him up, looking around to see that actually they had managed to fight off this wave of enemies. Crowley was helping Gabriel to his feet, neither of them looking in the best shape. Gabriel was bleeding from several cuts and Crowley’s wing was sitting at an odd angle. Bobby was cut up pretty bad but was fairing quite well, despite ragged breathing and a bit of a limp after he had been slammed into the ground. The other two hunters were shook up but otherwise unharmed, but still clutched to their guns and blades with shaking hands like the lifelines they were.

   It was time to move on. They had to push on towards the park even with their limited forces. They had lost their demon backup but they could still do it. Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel and helped him along as they carried on again. They were so close.

~*~

 _Here they come, Sammy, at last. Maybe I should have disposed of your brother earlier, but don’t you think this is so much more fun? I think it’s great, a lovely little family reunion. You do realise you’re going to watch as I rip out his heart, right? I’m going to make you rip his heart out._ “What’s the point?” _The point? Don’t you see it yet? This is all wrong. This is not how things were meant to go. We were meant to have paradise, an everlasting peace, and instead Father created you. He created creatures worse than cockroaches. You are below all the creatures on this planet; you have no purpose but to destroy._ “Why do you hate us so much? None of your brothers felt this way.” _Didn’t they? You know so little, Sam. We archangels, we all felt this way. We all disagreed with Father’s plan. I was the only one who spoke up, because I loved Him so much. How could I be asked to love you more than Him? I just wanted to serve, but I ended up being the one that was cast out by the hand of my own brother. You know what love is, Sam. Don’t you love your father?_ “I did. But I would never kill to gain his love.” _Kill? I don’t kill, Sammy. I breathe life into everything. Just look around us, look at all this life. I protect myself, dear human. I kill those who wish to kill me, but I do not kill for fun. My only sin was loving too much. You know what it’s like to love too much, I know you do, Sam. You’ll regret it, just as I did._

~*~

The park was too full of life for October and it chilled Dean right to his soul to see the blooming flowers and the lush green leaves on the trees. He still carried Castiel, the angel supporting himself with an arm slung around Dean’s shoulder, and Gabriel and Crowley took the lead through the park. Bobby and the other hunters had slipped off silently to investigate for another entrance and find a way in to shut the gate without Lucifer noticing. Of course it would be impossible, but it was worth a try. The group hoped that two of Lucifer’s closest brothers standing before him would be enough of a distraction. Balthazar was suddenly at Dean’s side, looking thoroughly beat up. Somehow he still managed to keep an aloof swagger in his stride, but his eyes were clouded with pain and his clothes soaked in blood. “I thought we’d join in on this bit,” the angel breathed, glancing to Dean with a weak smile. Dean nodded, and only then noticed that they were accompanied by a small group of angels and hunters, along with some remaining demons. They were all battered, bruised and bleeding, but all their faces were set with morbid determination. They still did not stand a chance.

   There he was, stood amidst the flowering plants as broad as day in a garish suit that was not a far cry from the one Dean had seen in Zachariah’s future universe. He almost thought Lucifer did it on purpose, but then it would be absurd for devil to know about that part of Dean’s life, would it not? Dean felt a sick twist in his gut at the thought that Lucifer did in fact know about that future. The words rang clear in his head. _We’ll always end up here._

   This time it was different. Lucifer was only surprised when Gabriel and Azrael took the lead, and it was Gabriel who stood before him with his wings stretched up in angelic pride. “Surprise, you bastard,” Dean hissed under his voice as the devil looked with a mild expression of surprise between his two brothers.

   “Well, my two brothers would stand against me, against our Father? Suddenly I’m not so sure he wired you right.” The way he spoke was so normal, so casual, it made Dean feel even more sick.

   “This has nothing to do with our Father,” Gabriel said lowly, and Dean noticed how Crowley gave him the centre stage, keeping his wings politely folded down and his hands behind his back. Yet the archangel was still ready for anything, Dean could tell by the way his feet were planted securely to the ground, his shoulders set and his eyes trained closely on Lucifer. It was strange to see two of the most un-angel-like angels acting so very like the soldiers they were created to be. Lucifer suddenly spread his arms and grinned.

   “Why should we have all the fun?” At his words, there were demons everywhere. Castiel lifted himself from Dean’s side and heaved a grunt as he took out the demon that lunged for them. Dean hated demons. At least with angels there was a weapon to take them down once and for all, but with demons you could only push them back until something else took care of them.

   Crowley was suddenly in the fray, leaving Gabriel to take care of Lucifer as he helped protect the group from the onslaught of demons. Dean fought back to back with Castiel, his muscles screaming in protest at every movement and his heart pumping wildly to try to keep him going. His attention was drawn to a new angel that had joined in, and he recognised it immediately as Raphael. So the sick bastard had finally decided to join in. He kept an eye on the archangel as he fought for his own life, and his heart almost stopped as he saw Raphael turn on Bobby, who had looped around behind Lucifer with the remainder of their small group. The older hunter was surrounded by hissing demons, he did not even noticed when the archangel reached out to throw him a good fifteen feet into a tree. Dean cried out but he was trapped in a ring of demons and had no way to get to Bobby. His heart thumped wildly again as he helplessly watched Raphael approach the hunter, and all he could do was keep swinging at the oncoming demons.

   Dean could not even express his relief when Crowley suddenly appeared between Raphael and Bobby, his wings flaring out in anger to make him look impossibly huge. Dean watched from the corner of his eye as he fought the demons, and he saw Crowley take on Raphael with a new vigour. It seemed easy, watching it from a distance, but Crowley was exhausted from his fight with Camael and Dean could see it in his slightly sluggish reactions. There was too much to watch, as Dean managed to throw a glance towards Gabriel and Lucifer. They were circling each other, blades gleaming in the moonlight that now shone down on them. They were yet to make a move, and Dean was glad of that. If he could just get over there, maybe he could snap Sam out of it, maybe they could do a repeat.

   Crowley sank his blade into Raphael’s throat, and his face twisted in morbid pleasure as he watched his brother burst out of his vessel and die in a flash of light. Dean watched from a distance as Crowley tossed the vessel to the ground and turned to Bobby, helping him up with ease and sharing a look before they both returned to the task at hand. Dean made a note to thank the archangel later.

   That was when time seemed to stop. Everything halted. The demons around Dean suddenly stopped and span around to look towards Lucifer. Dean staggered and looked around as well, and both his heart and stomach plummeted at once. Shrouded in gold, Gabriel was knelt in the middle of the park, cradling what had once been his brother and Dean’s brother all at the same time. Time did stop for Dean. He could pick out every detail of the contorted expression on Gabriel’s face as he smoothed back the hair of the body in his arms. Dean did not even know if it was Sam or Lucifer he was mourning, or maybe even both. Gabriel rocked forward to hide his face, pressing his head down against Sam’s chest and curving his wings over to cover them both in a shimmering, golden canopy. Dean could see the fingers of one hand clutching uselessly at the fabric of the jacket Lucifer had put Sam in as the other hand cradled Sam’s head so gently. It broke Dean’s heart in a thousand different ways, and before he knew it he was on his knees.

   Castiel was at Dean’s side in an instant, but as soon as he saw the hollow grief in those green eyes he knew there was nothing that could be done. He wrapped his good wing around the man and drew him close as he looked over towards the archangel that cradled the human in the centre of all the chaos. Lucifer was gone. He had died a simple angel death, with no fancy explosion or recoil. He had simply ceased to exist. Castiel felt Dean shudder and drew him closer, smoothing a hand over his short hair in some vague attempt to comfort him. Of course it was impossible. The man was staring at his brother lying dead in the middle of a battlefield. “All of you,” Crowley yelled to the demons that crowded around, at a loss now their leader lay dead before them, six wings burned into the ground around Gabriel. “Get through that damn gate before I find no further use for you!” Crowley flared his wings, and all at once the demons around them expelled from their vessels and surged towards the gate. The archangel moved with Bobby at his side to shut the gate, and as the vessels fell to the ground, either unconscious or dead, Dean finally rose to his feet.

   The angel trailed a few feet behind the man and watched as he sank back down again in front of Gabriel, Sam’s limp body between them. Gabriel had pushed the blade in through his heart, and the red shirt was stained darker with blood. Castiel heard the destroyed sob of the man as he reached out to touch Sam, as if to confirm it for himself. Gabriel finally reacted, removing his death grip on the clothing to press his hand against Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, listen to me,” the angel choked out, his voice wavering and just as broken as he looked. “Dean, I need you to keep him safe. Dean, do you hear me?” Dean lifted his head to look at Gabriel, their eyes meeting before he nodded. “Don’t burn his body, alright? Give me a week, please, just a week. Please.” Gabriel was actually begging, and even Castiel was taken aback by that. “Just a week,” he sobbed out, looking back down to the body that was still laid across his lap, cradled in his arm. It was hard to work out who he was grieving for, but Castiel realised that Gabriel had just killed his brother and a friend all at once. The angel thought what it would have been like to kill a brother if he had been in Dean’s body, and the thought turned his insides to ice. He understood the grief all at once, and he stepped forward to try to offer help.

   Gabriel looked up at his little brother and offered a weak smile. “Look after them both, yeah?” The angel nodded weakly and watched as Sam’s body was laid gently on the floor. “Just a week,” Gabriel whispered, and then he was gone in a flutter of wings. That was when Dean broke down.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You did well to last so long when you were down there, most of them don’t last a year. I’ve seen them leap at the chance to punish before they’re even down on the table. You see, those who end up in Hell, they have something twisted inside them, it’s in their nature.”

He could not do it. He could not bring himself to go downstairs and sit with his brother’s dead body. Dean stared blankly across the room as he sat on Bobby’s sofa, vaguely aware of what was happening around him. “It’s dislocated, not broken,” Bobby growled agitatedly.

   “It feels broken,” Crowley grumbled. Dean did not have the heart to remark how the King of Hell was sat shirtless in Bobby’s house with six wings crowding the room and leaving little space for movement.

   “I’ll pop it back in.”

   “No you fucking won’t.”

   “Just sit still.” Dean ticked his eyes over to the sight, Bobby with his hands on Crowley’s wing, Crowley glaring at him with the most threatening look he could manage right now. Maybe it would have been amusing if Dean had the ability to recognise it.

   “Do it, and I’ll condemn your soul myself.”

   “Try it,” Bobby growled before pushing a palm against the joint and pulling the wing back. In one swift movement it popped back into place, and Crowley hissed sharply as his other wings snapped out and knocked a pile of books off Bobby’s desk. “Thanks for that,” Bobby grumbled.

   “You’re welcome,” Crowley bit back before flexing the newly righted wing and then folding them all back down. It was an art to manage to fit six wings neatly together against his back. They all slotted together like a puzzle and rested smartly, the smaller ones folded in beneath the large ones. “Your soul is going to Hell,” the archangel grumbled as his wings faded out and he picked up the shirt he had cast down.

   “I look forward to it,” Bobby muttered as he glanced over to Castiel. The young angel was sat staring blankly at Dean, vision clouded by pain and grief. Castiel had not said a word since Detroit. “Cas, come on, let’s take a look.” Castiel shook his head, and Dean vaguely made out his one good wing pulling in tight against him, the other one still hung limply at his side. “Maybe I can do something about it.”

   “There’s nothing to be done,” Castiel finally spoke, his voice hoarse and strained. Dean looked down at his feet again, unable to stand looking at the battered soldier sat on the other sofa. He heard Bobby sigh.

   “I could do with a hand, if you feel like being Mother Teresa,” Balthazar said from where he was sprawled out on the floor somewhere near Castiel. He had been attacked rather severely in the skirmishes around Detroit and an angel had put a blade through his shoulder. While he had healed most of his other wounds himself, the stab wounds and cuts from angel blades were still open and bleeding.

   “If you think I’m getting down on the floor with you, you can think again,” Bobby growled, and there was a small flutter of wings. “Better.”

   Dean had to do it. At some point he had to do it. There was no time like the present. He got to his feet slowly and numbly, feeling his head swim with exhaustion and grief, and made his way out of the room. No one spoke to him, no one stopped him. He was grateful for their consideration. His mind was blank as he made his way down to the panic room, and his feet carried him down the steps on auto-pilot. He did not stop until he was at the iron door, and he could see the body shrouded in white linen in the centre of the room. He stared, trying to get his mind to work, to do something, but it was useless. He was sure that if his brain did start working, he would simply break down.

   He wondered where Sam was. Had he gone to Heaven? Hell? Was he a ghost, stuck wandering around? Should he have ignored Gabriel and burned the body? No, Gabriel had a plan. Dean had seen it in his eyes. Gabriel was up to something. Dean so hoped Sam had not fallen back into Hell to suffer again. His dreams had become vivid when the wall had fallen in his brain, Dean had heard him cry out in the night before Gabriel had quieted him. Sam had suffered something that was beyond understanding, it and pained Dean to think that he was going through it again. “It takes a certain sort of soul to go to Hell.” The voice made him jump, but he knew who it was immediately. Crowley was stood beside him, hands calmly in his pockets but his wings still unfurled onto the angelic plane. “People think they go to Hell for the smallest things. Drinking, promiscuity, even murder. It’s all just propaganda,” Crowley muttered, eyes fixed on the body in the panic room. Dean swallowed hard, his brain finally kick-starting so he could process the conversation.

   “What does that even mean?” His voice was low and foreign to his own ears. Crowley leaned up against the doorframe and looked at Dean, those pale eyes boring into him but not in the usual demonic way. Apparently he was full of surprises.

   “You did well to last so long when you were down there, most of them don’t last a year. I’ve seen them leap at the chance to punish before they’re even down on the table. You see, those who end up in Hell, they have something twisted inside them, it’s in their nature.” Dean took in those words as the angel fell silent.

   “When… when I was down there… there was this little… this little girl.” Dean frowned at the memory. It had been the child he was torturing when Castiel pulled him out from the pit. She must have only been ten, if that. “How does a child have it in their nature?” Crowley actually laughed at that.

   “It takes all sorts. I’ve seen children that have murdered their own families, tortured animals, all that nasty stuff. If I had it my way I’d have an age limit,” he said as his voice suddenly dropped into a pensive tone, with even a possible hint of sadness. “Anyway, my point is, your brother isn’t in Hell.” Dean looked up to him with a frown, and Crowley raised an eyebrow. “I checked, he isn’t there.” The words sank in slowly and Dean looked back to his brother. “I’ll leave you be.” Before Dean could even try to argue he was alone, Crowley’s departure accompanied for once by the soft flutter of wings. He stared at the body for a few minutes before moving forward. He had to say goodbye.

~*~

Castiel tried to ignore the pain in his wing, staring blankly at the window opposite him. He could feel it throbbing away and was glad that when they were hidden his wings were almost weightless. Gravity would certainly not help the pain, he knew that much. He was aware of Bobby patching up Balthazar, cleaning up the wounds before wrapping them up neatly. Bobby had hardly stopped to even care for his own injuries, and when Crowley returned from wherever he had disappeared to the archangel started mothering the hunter immediately.

   Castiel’s mind was elsewhere. He had felt his strength start to return to him as soon as Raphael and Camael’s hold on Heaven had been destroyed, but he still felt so empty. His grace was rattling around inside that empty vessel, too small to fill the void. He felt cold and empty and he simply had no idea why. He felt a weight on the sofa beside him and new it was Balthazar. “The Host is silent,” he said quietly, and Castiel finally turned his gaze to him. He was looking in better shape, patched up to the best of Bobby’s abilities, which was pretty good, and with a clean set of clothes he had created for himself.

   “They have not spoken since Lucifer died,” Castiel answered. He knew why, in his mind. Everyone was mourning the loss of one of the brightest angels. He may have fallen, but he was still their brother. They had also lost Raphael and Camael, along with many others who died needlessly.

   It had all been needless. All those people had died and Castiel just wondered what the point was. The Earth continued in its own way, and most of the planet still had no idea that they had just been saved from certain death. Castiel sighed and watched idly as Bobby finally let Crowley heal his wounds. At least they had found Azrael. His grace burned bright and strong now he no longer suppressed it and Castiel could bathe in its warmth all day.

   After a few long, silent minutes Castiel heard footsteps and lifted his gaze to see Dean stood at the doorway. He would maybe have been easier to look at if he had actually been angry, or upset, or anything other than the blank shell that he was. His eyes were bloodshot but that was the only sign of emotion. Castiel sighed and pushed himself up from the sofa, feeling his body protest greatly and his wing throb with pain. He could feel Balthazar’s eyes upon him as he moved over to Dean. He wanted to comfort, to encase him in feathers and soothe away the pain. However useless it might be, he wanted to try.

   Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s arm and drew that empty stare to him. “Dean,” he said quietly, and Dean’s lips pursed in response. It was a definite sign of emotion, a definite sign that he really should not be around people, and Castiel sighed gently. “You should rest.” He took Dean’s hand and led him from the room without another word. Dean did not fight him, his footsteps slow and steady behind Castiel as he was led up to the bedroom.

   They sat on the bed in silence, and Dean buried his face in his palms and took a few deep breaths to settle himself. All Castiel could do was put an arm around him and hold him close. He would say it was okay, that it would all be fine, but he knew it would not. He could not lie to Dean. Dean was grateful for the silent honesty. “I don’t know what to do, Cas,” he said quietly, his head rested on the angel’s shoulder. Castiel placed a soft kiss in his hair and sighed. “I should have done better. I should have tried to get to him.”

   “You did the best you could,” Castiel murmured.

   “I let Sammy down… I let you down,” his voice was quiet and strained. Dean straightened up and looked at Castiel, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “What happened to you… I just…”

   “It’ll be fine,” Castiel reassured gently. “It’ll heal.” He watched Dean’s eyes travel to the shadow of his broken wing, saw the complete look of grief on his face, and felt his heart break. He was in pain, but he would recover. With his strength returning he would be fine.

   “Cas… show me,” Dean demanded quietly. Castiel tugged his upper lip between his teeth for a moment before nodding. It would hurt, but Dean had asked, and at that point in time Castiel did not feel like he could say no. He shrugged his coat and jacket off and Dean helped him unbutton his shirt slowly. “I’m sorry this ever happened to you,” he muttered as he slowly unfastened the buttons. Castiel was not sure what he was talking about, because a lot had happened. Still, he nodded gently and slipped off his shirt and tie.

   Dean watched as Castiel turned his back to him and took a few deep breaths. He let the angel manifest his wings in his own time, one hand rested gently on his hip with his thumb brushing lightly over the bare skin. Castiel shuddered and forced his wings into existence, and immediately let out a ragged, dry sob as gravity grabbed hold of his broken wing and dragged it straight down. Dean wrapped his arms around the angel instinctively, feeling the lithe body shudder with pain. “I am so sorry,” Dean choked against Castiel’s back, eyes landing on the destroyed limb before his vision clouded up with tears. He scrunched his eyes closed and buried his face in the downy feathers between the angel’s shoulders. “God, Cas, I’m so fucking sorry,” he sobbed, tears falling hot against the feathers. Castiel’s breathing was ragged but he still moved a hand to grip tightly at Dean’s, where it lay across the angel’s stomach.

   “It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice choked and rough. “It’s okay, Dean.” It really was not okay. Dean sobbed freely against Castiel’s back, smoothing one hand through his good wing gently in an attempt to comfort.

   “It’ll never be okay.” Dean could barely speak. His head pounded and his chest ached, and he felt all the regret and grief building up in him and boiling over. Castiel let him cry, a thumb running over his knuckles gently. Dean could feel the ragged breath of the angel, and when he felt the spot of water on his hand he felt his heart break all over again. Castiel was actually crying. Dean moved and slowly turned Castiel around, hearing the gentle sigh of relief as the wings disappeared again. He could see the tears brimming in the angel’s eyes and falling freely down his face and reached up to brush them away with his thumbs. “I’m sorry, Cas,” he repeated again, pressing their lips together softly. He just wanted to kiss away the pain, to make it all better. It was a futile attempt and the tears only came more freely, forcing him to pull away and bury his face against Castiel’s neck.

   “You should rest,” the angel said hoarsely. He smoothed a hand over Dean’s hair and then slowly prised him away. Dean was shaking his head. “I’ll stay with you, you shall not dream,” he reassured gently. “Just please, rest.” His hands were firm yet gentle as he pushed Dean down onto the bed. He lay beside him and held him close in his arms. Dean curled up into the warmth of the angel and let his tears fall freely again. He had no idea how long he sobbed against Castiel’s chest, soft hands comforting him with gentle strokes down his spine, but eventually he fell asleep. Castiel was true to his word. Dean did not dream.

~*~

Dean woke up many hours later, just as the sun was about to rise. He guessed he had actually been asleep all day and night. He could feel a warm body pressed to his back and simply closed his eyes and sighed, enjoying the comforting presence. Soft lips pressed to the base of his neck and the arms around him tightened, and Dean got the feeling that Castiel had not slept. Just for a little while, Dean wanted to forget the world. He curled up tighter against the angel, beneath the covers that had been pulled over them at some point, and enjoyed the way he slotted so easily against Castiel, how those strong arms held him so carefully and yet so protectively.

   Castiel did not say a word. He let Dean lace their fingers together and lay in silence, and for that Dean was grateful. For just a while he could imagine that he had woken up somewhere nice with the angel at his side, and there was not a worry in the world. Eventually Dean rolled over to face the angel, and he had to say Castiel was actually looking better. “You look… good,” he said quietly, bringing a hand up to cup the angel’s cheek gently. Castiel smiled and closed his eyes, nuzzling gently into the touch.

   “My connection to Heaven has been re-established,” he murmured, turning his face to press a kiss to Dean’s palm. Dean hesitated and drew in a deep breath. Castiel was all angel again. He swallowed hard and his discomfort brought Castiel’s attention back to him, those gentle eyes watching him carefully. “What’s the matter?”

   “Are you going to leave again?” His voice was small and pained, and Castiel frowned at his words before edging a little closer, drawing Dean in tighter in his arms.

   “No, of course not. I belong here,” he answered sincerely. Dean seriously wanted to believe him, but the fear still tugged at his gut.

   “You’d be better off in Heaven,” he muttered, fingers tracing Castiel’s jaw slowly. The angel closed the distance between them and pressed a gentle kiss to Dean’s lips. Dean guessed it served the purpose of shutting him up and he could hardly say he minded. It was a kiss that made his bones melt and a soft sigh escape him. It was a kiss that made everything sink away and leave just him and the angel.

   “I belong… with you,” Castiel whispered between kisses, hitching Dean as close as possible so their chests met. Dean parted from the kiss to rest their foreheads together, drowning in those eyes again and never wanting to come up for air. His body was aching, his mind numb and exhausted, and he never wanted to surface.

   “Let’s just… stay here for a while,” he breathed, and Castiel agreed with a soft nod. Dean was glad. He was not ready to face the world today, to see the body beneath the white sheet in the panic room.

~*~

Dean finally braved it about an hour later. His body protested and ached as he dragged himself to the shower and stood beneath the hot spray. It was painfully clear that he had been at war two days before, and every muscle screamed with every movement. Dean had no idea how long he stood there, scalding water cascading down his aching spine, but by the time he finished and headed downstairs Castiel was sat with Balthazar in the kitchen and Crowley was surprisingly still in the house. That archangel was drinking coffee that was clearly not one of Bobby’s creations and leaning against the kitchen counter as Castiel and Balthazar talked between themselves.

   Of course it all fell silent when Dean entered the room, but it was not an awkward silence. “Still here?” he asked Crowley politely as he went about making his own coffee. He was surprised to note that six black wings were still faintly visible, and was glad when the archangel moved out of the way even though it was just the shadow of his extra limbs that were blocking Dean’s path to the kettle.

   “A long time ago I had a job to do,” Crowley explained as he took a sip of his drink. “I thought now was a good time to start again.” He did not have to say any more, Dean simply knew he was talking about the dead body in the panic room. Azrael’s job was to protect and guide the dead, of course.

   “What about Hell?” Dean spooned some instant coffee into a mug. Crowley shrugged lightly and moved from the kitchen counter to move across the kitchen.

   “I’m sure it can do without me for now. It’s not like Hell needs to have order or anything.” He disappeared into the other room and Dean fell silent as he watched the kettle boil slowly. Castiel and Balthazar had returned to their conversation, something about Heaven and how few angels were left. He heard Balthazar mention a plan the angels were thinking of to repopulate Haven so they could aid the passing of souls again, and Castiel was disagreeing vehemently. Dean poured the water into his mug before it really finished boiling and stirred with the half-clean spoon he had found.

   When he sat down at the table, the conversation topic changed, but Dean paid no attention. He watched the steam rise from his mug and wrapped his hands around the warm ceramic. Detroit was playing out in his head. He could see the demons’ black eyes glinting in the dusk, hear the shrieks and the sound of gunfire, smell the blood and gunpowder on the air. He could see Sam cradled by an archangel, his body cold and lifeless.  “Dean?” he was drawn from his thoughts by Castiel’s gentle voice. It was only then he noticed that Bobby was in the room as well now.

   Bobby was injury free and even looked a little refreshed. He guessed it would not have taken much for Crowley to ensure a good night’s sleep. Dean forced a smile and looked between Bobby and Castiel. “Yes?”

   “There’s a vampire nest a few towns over, I said I’d take it on and clear it up,” Bobby said calmly, clearly repeating a message he had tried to relay to Dean while he had been zoned out. Despite being well rested and healed, his eyes were red and he was still looking pale, and Dean could not help but feel guilty for that.

   “I’ll go too,” Dean said hoarsely. Bobby narrowed his eyes at him, but it was Castiel who spoke first.

   “Dean, I don’t think that’s-” Dean cut him off by raising a hand sharply and gritting his teeth.

   “Cas, I want to go. I need to do something,” he muttered. He noticed the small nod Bobby offered and the tightness of his jaw, and Dean knew he was not the only one who was suffering and grieving. He was not the only one who needed a distraction. Castiel stared at Dean for a moment, but then finally nodded, reaching out one hand to touch Dean’s fingers where they wrapped around the warm mug.

   “Just be careful,” the angel sighed, and his eyes were only full of concern and understanding. In his own way he was grieving for Sam, Dean could see it in the familiar frown and the sadness whirling around behind those eyes. Dean frowned a little and moved his hands to grasp at the angel’s fingers.

   “Aren’t you coming with us?” Castiel pursed his lips and shook his head gently.

   “I must visit Heaven.” At those words, Dean felt his heart plummet. Castiel seemed to spot the unease straight away, moving so he was grasping both of Dean’s hands in his own and squeezing tightly. “Only for today. I must see what they plan to do. There are so few of us left, I would not like to see them go astray,” Castiel explained softly. Dean swallowed hard and nodded, taking in the sincerity in the angel’s eyes, the warmth of his fingers around Dean’s hands. One day was not so bad. “If you need me you just have to call.” Castiel offered one last squeeze of his hands before he stood from the table with Balthazar.

   “Be careful, son,” Bobby muttered to the angel, and Castiel smiled at him warmly and nodded before Balthazar put a hand to his shoulder and they disappeared in a flutter. The older hunter looked to Dean and sighed. “Finish that off and then we’ll go.” Dean nodded and Bobby left the kitchen. He heard Crowley’s low rumble but already he had zoned out. Dean could not wait to be on a hunt and take his mind off the whole terrible mess.

_~*~_

Clearing out a vampire nest was just the kind of mind-numbing work Dean needed. It was only a small nest but another hunter joined them to help, in fact Dean recognised him from Detroit. It appeared Bobby and Dean were not the only two needing to take their mind off things. Their little band had faced the devil and won, but Sam’s body was not the only one that was now lifeless. Dean wondered idly as he stalked around the side of the house that contained the vampires how they could be expected to simply go back to their normal lives after such an event, to return to hunting ghosts and vampires and saving the idiots who got in the way.

   Nothing would ever be the same again. This was the second time they had stopped the end of the world, and it was one time too many for Dean. It was not the same this time. Something felt different. Maybe it was the fact that now he had to deal with Sam’s corpse laid out in the panic room below Bobby’s house. Maybe it was that Castiel had a battered wing and could not even fly any more, being transported by other angels like baggage. Maybe it was the regret and grief he saw on the face of the King of Hell. Everything had changed.

   Dean glanced to the other hunter that had followed him around the side of the house, Ian was his name. He was grim faced and looked like he had not slept in a week, and maybe that was the case. “Sweep right,” Dean muttered to him, and Ian nodded before taking up his position beside him at the door. This group of vampires were particularly nasty. They had been moving from town to town, feasting on unsuspecting people who dared to walk away from civilisation. Dean picked the lock carefully and quietly before pushing the door open and moving in. Bobby was going in from the front of the house, blocking all escape routes.

   The house was silent and dark, the windows boarded up and a thick layer of dust covering every surface. This particular group were squatters who found abandoned houses and stayed there for a while, filling themselves up before moving onto the next town. Ian moved right, clearing the small dining room before moving towards the stairs. Dean went left, into the kitchen. It did not take long for the vampires to pounce. There were three relaxing in the kitchen, and as soon as they spotted Dean they were moving.  Dean reacted smoothly, ignoring the ache and burn of his muscles as he swung up the long blade in his hand and removed the head of the first vampire. He ducked the swing of the next before decapitating the third in one swift cut. He turned back to the second, squaring up as the vampire kept his distance warily, lowered in preparation.

   Dean saw the other hunter appear behind the vampire and smirked. The vampire managed to get a puzzled look on his face before Bobby removed his head with one swift swing of a machete. Dean offered Bobby a nod of thanks before they moved on silently through the house. They found five more in the lounge, waiting for them, and cleared them out with ease. They eventually reconvened with Ian at the base of the stairs, job complete but minds and bodies still numb. They were exhausted but not from the hunt, and Dean did not even feel the old sense of satisfaction at an easy job well done. He cast his gaze to the bodies in the kitchen and let out a long breath. “It’s not enough,” he muttered quietly.

   “Nothing ever will be,” Bobby agreed before moving to the door. Nothing else needed to be said, and they parted ways with Ian with a few words of thanks and goodbyes. Even the sound of the Impala as it roared to life was not enough to ease the numbness in Dean’s mind.

~*~

Dean spent his spare time back at Bobby’s fixing up some of the old cars, salvaging working parts for them and just trying to make them run. The old habit of trying to fix everything would never die, and the hard labour that cut his hands and kept the ache in his muscles was enough to remind him he was alive whilst wiping his mind clean of anything that he simply did not want to think about. He had spent the night in the panic room, talking to Sam, and had not slept at all. It was pointless even trying without Castiel at his side, he knew that much. He needed the calming energy of the angel’s grace to even attempt to get some rest.

   He had talked to Sam about their time as children. They had never really been children, not as they should have been, but there had been moments when they had been curled up in the Impala under their father’s jacket that Dean could have closed his eyes and just enjoyed the company of his brother. No little boy should have ever feared for his life on a daily basis, and Dean hated that part of his life, but he had always had Sam. Sam had always made it feel better, taking away the painful sting of reality.

   Dean was just about to hammer out the dent in the hood of an old Camaro when he heard footsteps. He looked up to see Castiel approaching, the shadow of his broken wing trailing behind him, the other folded neatly to his back. “You’re back,” Dean breathed, relief rushing through him and easing some of the tension he had been carrying around.

   “I am,” Castiel said with a small smile, stopping a few feet away from Dean with his hands in his pockets. Dean returned the smile and looked to the car, taking in the dents and scrapes all over it. It would need to be repainted at some point, but he thought maybe he could get it to a good enough standard to sell it.

   “How did it go?” Dean caught the way Castiel’s face fell a little, the sudden emotion in his eyes that he had been hiding. “Cas?” He straightened and moved to the angel, one hand reaching out to rest on Castiel’s upper arm. He looked up at Dean and pursed his lips.

   “I… do not wish to return to Heaven,” he muttered. Although it was selfish of him, Dean was glad. There was something in the angel’s defeated tone and the way he looked away that made Dean’s heart sink, however.

   “Cas, what happened?” Castiel was silent for a moment before he spoke.

   “I do not agree with their plans. I’ll have no part in them,” he murmured sincerely. Dean knew there was more to the story, but he left it alone for now, instead drawing the angel into a tight hug and burying his face against Castiel’s neck.

   “Then you can stay here. With me,” he mumbled, feeling warm arms wrap around him in return. Castiel let out a long breath and nodded against Dean’s shoulder.

   They did not speak for a long time, stood in an embrace and enjoying each other’s warmth. Dean had mixed emotions about this whole situation. On the one hand, he would have his angel all to himself, no Heaven in the way, no dick angels to interrupt. On the other, Castiel was losing the only home he had ever known. Dean was reminded daily just what Castiel was. He was an eternal celestial being made of pure energy and power, and he did not belong on Earth. Dean had dragged him down into the mud and the filth. He had tarnished an angel of the Lord.

   Dean drew back first, resting their foreheads together and taking a steadying breath. “I’m sorry, Cas. For everything,” he sighed. The angel looked at him, bemused.

   “You have nothing to apologise for.” Dean wanted to argue, wanted to say that actually he had a lot to apologise for. He wanted to apologise for muddying the angel’s wings and dragging him down into humanity. There was so much on the tip of his tongue, but it was all suddenly forgotten as the ground shook. They both jolted apart and looked around as the tremors grew, the metal garage around them rattling violently.

   “What the hell?” Dean called over the low rumble of the earth beneath their feet. Castiel pressed a hand to his head and looked towards the house.

   “Something’s happening,” the angel hissed, scrunching his eyes shut. The rumbling suddenly ceased, silence falling like a heavy blanket.

   “No shit,” Dean breathed. “Is it over?” Castiel took a trembling breath and started walking towards the house.

   “I don’t know,” he said over his shoulder.

   Dean was just falling in step behind Castiel when the unnerving silence was suddenly broken once again. A violent shockwave burst from the direction of the house, pulsing through the air and sending Dean toppling backwards to the cold ground. Glass exploded, cars creaked and shifted, the slightly fragile structures of the nearby sheds bent and rattled, threatening to topple over at any moment. “Dean!” He felt a firm hand on his shoulder and lifted his head from where he had covered from the exploding glass to see Castiel’s panicked face.

   “What the hell was that?” Dean’s voice was a lot higher pitched than he would admit later, but he could still feel the energy pulsing and throbbing in the air, his ears humming with the heavy silence that was pressing in around them.

   “I think it’s Sam,” Castiel said hurriedly, reaching out to grab Dean’s shoulder.

   The world span and Dean felt his body being lurched up so when they appeared outside the panic room he was stood beside Castiel, looking at a somewhat familiar sight. A small figure stood beside the now uncovered body in the centre of the panic room, but that figure still dominated the whole room. Six golden wings arched out around him, glowing and pulsing, the light and energy from them scorching against Dean’s skin and making his eyes water.

   Dean watched as Gabriel pressed glowing hands against Sam’s chest, fingers splayed out with energy crackling and leaping from each digit. Sam’s body arched up against the touch, muscles twitching, chest rising as air surged into his lungs. Dean could not tear his gaze away, transfixed as the light slowly started to fade and Sam’s body slumped back against the bed. Gabriel kept his hands to the hunter’s chest, peering at him with golden eyes still glowing from the excess energy. He kept his wings unfurled, shrouding the body in front of him in a gold canopy once again. It was protective, like nothing in Heaven, Hell or Earth could ever get past those wings. Dean held his breath as he waited.

~*~

   One minute he was mowing the lawn of a perfect house in a perfect neighbourhood, the smell of apple pie wafting out of the kitchen, and the next he was met by a familiar face he thought he would never see again. Golden wings, clothes that were too big, and a faint, fond smile that Sam had never really seen before on that face. The illusion around him was gone, and they were stood in an endless, empty white space. “Hey, kid,” Gabriel sighed, hands shoved into his pockets.

   “Gabriel? What are you doing here?” Sam had thought this was all over. He thought he had finally found his eternal rest. The archangel looked solemn, tiredness etched onto his face, his shoulders sagging beneath some invisible weight.

   “I came to bring you back,” the angel answered quietly. Sam frowned, looking around at the unnerving white space. It was rare for Gabriel to conjure something so simple, so empty.

   “Back?”

   “To Earth.” All at once Sam was both relieved and sad. He would be brought back into the world he knew, back to Dean, back to Bobby and Castiel. He would also be losing the happiness he had known in Heaven, happiness with Jess. “You’re going home, Sam,” Gabriel murmured, and he was so much closer than Sam had realised. Sam could see the golden feathers clearly here in Heaven, each one soft and shimmering. He stared at the wings for a moment, Gabriel silent as he waited for Sam’s response.

   Hesitantly, Sam reached out to brush his fingers along one of the feathers, softer than satin against the rough tips of his fingers. Gabriel stretched the wing out slowly, feathers shivering, a soft sigh escaping him. “I can visit you any time, but Dean’s not so lucky.” Sam nodded and closed his eyes, relishing the warm feathers against his skin, mind racing at an incredible speed. It was a lot to take in, a lot to consider. “You’ll be back one day. Your position in Heaven is secure. Come with me, now. They need you.” Sam opened his eyes to look at the archangel, saw the sincerity on his face. The trickster was long gone in that moment, and he was every bit the powerful celestial being he was born to be.

   Sam finally nodded, withdrawing his hand and looking down at his feet. “Alright. I’ll go with you,” he sighed. He felt the strong energy of Gabriel move closer, enveloping him in golden wings and electric power that shot through his entire body. It knocked the breath clean out of him, and then straight back into him again as the white around them was extinguished. He gasped and clawed out, losing grip of the archangel as they plummeted.

   The grief was overwhelming. Sam knew nothing but sadness and crippling loneliness. He choked on the stale air of Earth, arms flailing out to get a grip on something, anything. It was as if he had just fell from the top of a skyscraper and smashed into the Earth. His body felt heavy, the weight of the world crushing down on his every bone. His fingers found fabric over flesh and he gripped hard, eyes squeezed shut against the burning white light in his mind. “Sam, hey, Sammy, it’s okay,” came a familiar voice. “You’re back. Look,” Gabriel whispered. Sam was aware of firm, warm hands against his chest, but he did not have it in him to care. He was so incredibly sad, he could not know anything else.

   He was not aware he was crying until he was pulled into the archangel’s embrace, soft words of comfort being muttered into his ear. The sobs wracked through his body and he clung to Gabriel tight enough to crush the air out of a human being. The sadness was not his own. It was the same grief and abandonment that had flooded through his entire being while he had been possessed by Lucifer. He felt the same regret and guilt that had rushed through him before Gabriel had plunged in his blade.

   Sam had no idea how long he clung to the archangel, his body trembling and shaking and his mind reeling with the left over emotions of Lucifer. He was aware of the hand that stroked through his hair, soothing and comforting him, and the presence of his brother nearby. He heard muffled words between Dean and Gabriel, heard someone else enter the room and speak. Bobby and Castiel were there too, but he just could not care. “He was so sad,” he finally choked out, stopped the conversation around him.

   “Sammy?” Dean said from nearby, voice quiet. Sam opened his eyes and could just make out his concerned brother stood beside the bed.

   “Lucifer. He was so sad,” he repeated quietly, voice hardly above a whisper. He felt Gabriel shiver beside him and turned his gaze to the archangel.

   “Welcome back, kiddo,” Gabriel said weakly, managing a small smile.

   He was back. He was on Earth. Sam’s eyes swept around at the family around him, Castiel stood beside Dean, Dean clinging to his hand tightly as he watched Sam, Bobby at the door to the room, watching calmly but with tears in his eyes. He could make out the shadows of two angels beyond the door. One was most definitely Azrael, his crow-like wings casting a dominating shadow, his presence familiar from Lucifer’s knowledge of him. The other angel Sam did not know, but his attention was drawn as Dean spoke again. “Let’s get you into a real bed,” he murmured, and Gabriel nodded in agreement before slipping away from Sam.

   “Can you walk?” The archangel asked. Other than the emotions that bubbled around inside of him, pushing at every inch of his mind, he was perfectly fine. He nodded and slowly swung his legs off the edge of the bed. Dean was soon at his side, holding onto his arm to help him stand. Sam would have batted him away except he was not actually sure whether he could walk without the support.

   Gabriel stood back as Dean helped his brother move. Dean had to say he appreciated the lack of just zapping Sam up to bed. He wanted to know his brother could walk. It was good to feel the weight leaning against him, a long arm wrapped around his shoulder as Sam found his bearings and started to walk towards the door.

   Everyone left Dean to it as he helped Sam up into the small spare bedroom and sat him down on the bed. “How are you feeling?” Dean asked, one hand against Sam’s shoulder. Sam managed a half laugh and shook his head.

   “I feel like Lucifer rode around in my body and then an archangel stabbed me through the chest,” he sighed, subconsciously rubbing a hand against the place where the blade and sunk in. He knew there was not a mark there, but it was almost as if he could still feel the icy cold metal lodged in his heart. Dean huffed gently.

   “Yeah, I guess that’s a given,” he muttered. “Come here.” He tugged Sam into a tight embrace, the large body and strong arms wrapping around him feeling like home and everything that was right. He had his brother back, and the very idea of it lodged in Dean’s chest, making him choke out a small sob. “I’m glad you’re back, Sammy,” he managed to say.

   “Me too,” came the strained reply.

   They clung to each other for a few minutes until Dean drew back and took a long breath. “Get some rest,” he said. Sam nodded and shifted back onto the bed. Dean reluctantly left the room, glancing back as Sam curled up onto his side to try to sleep. Dean had to smile. For the first time in a long time it was a genuine smile that crept onto his face. Sam was back, Lucifer was dead, he had his angel, and everything was right in the world. Dean was never one to accept happiness. It always came with a double dose of ‘fuck you’ pretty soon after. Just this once, however, he thought that maybe he really could be happy. Maybe they finally deserved a bit of peace in their lives.

   Maybe it was finally all over.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think I’ll fit on top of the tree. Dean!”

The wind rocked the Impala as it crawled along the icy road, the tyres slipping now and then, trying to get a grip on the slippery tarmac. “I said you should have put the chains on,” Sam mused quietly from the passenger seat, cradling the crate of beer on his lap.

   “Shut your mouth. It was only a trip into town,” Dean grumbled, both hands gripping the wheel lightly as he kept the car steady and straight on the road. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad until it went all end of the world blizzard on us.” Sam chuckled and nodded, glancing out into the darkness beyond the window. Snow swirled around angrily, battering every surface of the Impala and coating it in a layer of white.

   Dean had to say he was glad when they finally reached the turning for Bobby’s and the Impala found some grip on the rocky old road leading up to the salvage yard. He could just make out the yellow glow of light in the windows up ahead through the blizzard, and already he was imagining how blissfully warm it was inside. Even with the heat cranked up in the Impala it was still bitterly cold. “This is going to be weird,” Sam said quietly. Dean had to agree.

   “Yeah, but the good kinda weird. When was the last time we had a proper Christmas, anyway?” He glanced across at his brother to see Sam’s brow crinkle slightly. It was Christmas Eve, and they were putting in all the effort to do it right this year.

   “I don’t think I ever have,” he answered softly.

   “Then this is a good place to start,” Dean said with a grin, slowing the Impala down to pull up outside of Bobby’s. The door to the house opened, a tall figure silhouetted against the warm light. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans it was hard to tell it was Castiel, but Dean knew straight away.

   The angel stepped out into the cold to help them unload the car, ignoring the icy wind that bit at his skin as he moved with Dean to the trunk. “Sorry we took a while,” Dean muttered as he fished out a bag of decorations, handing it to the angel. Castiel smiled and shook his head.

   “I was about to come searching but Bobby told me you had faced worse than a blizzard,” he laughed softly, looking up to Dean.

   “Well, I am sorry,” Dean said with a small smile, his breath clouding on the air as he leaned forwards and pressed an easy, gentle kiss on the angel’s lips. “Now please help with the bags so I can get my ass inside, I’m freezing my balls off out here.”

   “That’s highly unlikely, but not desirable.” Castiel pulled out two more of the bags and then fluttered away into thin air, the snow swirling around into the displacement of air he had created. Sam appeared beside Dean with the beer in hand and a bag of groceries, his nose scrunched up a little.

   “I don’t know if I’m going to get used to that,” he muttered. Dean barked a laugh and closed the trunk.

   “And I don’t think I’ll get used to a perverted archangel hovering around you,” he retorted as they headed across the slippery ground towards the house.

   It was warm inside, the heat greeting Dean and making his face flush as he stepped over the threshold. The house smelled of fresh pine from the Christmas tree they had managed to cram in there a few days ago. It stood in the corner of the living room, crushed into the corner beside Gabriel’s sofa. They had insisted on getting the tree the proper way, trudging out into the cold and finding a decent specimen before cutting it down and trying to manoeuvre it into the house, much the amusement of the angels. Crowley had taken particular delight when the damn thing had fallen over.

   As Dean entered the living room with the bags of shopping, he found Gabriel at the tree, hiding things in the branches. “Gabe, what are you doing?” Sam asked with a small grin. The archangel span around to look at him as if he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

   “Candy,” he said quickly. “I’m hiding candy.”

   “I guess some habits never die,” Dean chuckled, putting down the bags containing the decorations near the tree. The house was full and busy. Balthazar was helping Castiel unpack the contents of the bags the angel had brought in on the kitchen table. Crowley was in the kitchen as well complaining to Bobby about his lack of anything that’s worthy of cooking in, dressed in just a shirt and slacks for once with the sleeves rolled up to bear some rather interesting tattoos on his forearms that had made Dean raise his eyebrows at first.

   “Do we get to decorate it now?” Gabriel asked as he looked up at the tree in front of him. The archangel had been pestering them since they got the damn thing. Apparently angels never celebrated any such family event either, and Gabriel was all for getting involved with all the traditions. It surprised Dean and creeped him out a little, but Sam seemed to find it endearing and adorable.

   “Yes, we can decorate it now,” Sam laughed as he shrugged off his coat and cast it aside. Gabriel started digging through the bags and they were soon joined by the others.

   “How do we even do this?” Castiel asked as he watched the archangel pull out a string of tinsel.

   “No idea,” Dean shrugged, fishing out a box of baubles.

   “Just go crazy,” Bobby suggested from where he was leaning up against the wall that separated the kitchen and lounge.

   Gabriel really did not need the cue to go crazy, reaching up to start with the tinsel. Of course, he had picked one of the shortest vessels in the universe. Sam barked a laugh and moved forward, easily hooking an arm around the archangel and lifting up off the ground. “I am not a child,” Gabriel hissed, a mock-serious expression on his face as he kicked a foot out to give him some extra support on the arm of the nearby sofa.

   “You’re about as tall as one,” Sam returned easily, getting a better grip on the archangel before lifting him up again. Gabriel muttered something that sounded like thanks as he reached up again to wrap the tinsel around the top of the tree and start its descent downwards.

   Dean and Castiel started on the baubles, dotting them around anywhere they could reach, taking vague directions from a very unhelpful Balthazar. “No, the shiny one, put it near the top,” he offered, only receiving an exasperated glare from Dean.

   “If you’re the great interior designer then why don’t you actually help?” Dean snapped at him, and immediately regretted it as the damn angel actually stepped up and took the bauble from him. He had to admit Balthazar had a slightly better eye for it than Dean and Castiel’s haphazard approach of sticking them wherever they would go.

   The angels had been around for a while now. Gabriel never really left, loitering around Sam like for once he was worried about making the first move, but the others came and went freely. Dean often woke in the morning to found Crowley with a mug of coffee on the sofa, reading the morning newspaper with Bobby listening idly to his ramblings about the economic climate. Balthazar dropped in now and then, sometimes with other angels, usually just to be completely inappropriate at a bad time. Castiel never left any more. He stayed with Dean, sharing the bed, which Gabriel had kindly turned into a double, even though he did not have to sleep.

   Dean could get used to this new way of living. Between hunts they could simply relax with a beer at Bobby’s and get a good night’s sleep without loud sex happening next door or sirens blaring all through the night. He knew it would probably never last, and he hated invading Bobby’s space constantly, but the older hunter had told them explicitly that he would also have it no other way. Still, Dean was looking into getting their own place, a place they could return home to between hunts and simply relax. It was so rare they ever got to do such a thing, and he figured that maybe, just maybe, they deserved it.

   “Gabe, I don’t think it needs any more candy.” Dean glanced over to see Gabriel with his legs wrapped around Sam’s middle, leaning back and up towards the tree with a candy cane in his hand.

   “Of course it needs more candy,” he retorted, hooking one of the canes over a branch. Sam rolled his eyes but continued to hold him up.

   “I think you can do this yourself now,” he sighed.

   “I don’t think I can, I’m too short.” Dean rolled his eyes and hooked another bauble onto the tree. It was starting to look full, decorations sparking in the dim light. Dean had to say he was proud.

   It took them a good hour to fully decorate the tree. Gabriel nearly fell into it at one point, when Sam went to put him down, and Crowley added a bit of creative input with some very old decorative bells. Balthazar tweaked the whole thing and Bobby stood there calling them all idjits for taking so long over it. When it was done, however, they stood back proudly and took in their work. Hardly a branch was left visible but it was just over-the-top enough for their first real Christmas.

   “It’s still missing something,” Dean mused quietly. Castiel looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

   “What? It looks finished to me.” He looked back at the tree, taking in the tinsel and baubles hanging off every possible branch and the various little candy items scattered around.

   “It’s missing an angel,” Dean said with a smirk before grabbing Castiel around the waist and hauling him up off the ground. The angel let out a satisfying squeak of surprise, legs flailing as he tried to get a grip on something.

   “I don’t think I’ll fit on top of the tree. Dean!” As the angel tried to twist out of his grip they both went toppling sideways to the floor, much to the enjoyment of Balthazar and Gabriel. Dean hit the ground with a soft ‘oof’ and then laughed loudly, wrapping his arms around the angel that had landed on top of him. “Dean this isn’t funny.”

   “Of course it’s funny,” Dean gasped through the laughter.

   “Seriously, Dean, what are you, five?” Sam chided as he fell down onto the sofa.

   “Apparently I am,” Dean muttered as he pressed a kiss to Castiel’s forehead and then let him get up.

   “If you’re about done screwing around,” Bobby grumbled as he made his way towards his desk. “Some of us need to sleep.”

   “Such a grouch,” Crowley purred as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. He had upgraded Bobby’s collection some time ago to suit his tastes better. The old hunter hardly seemed to care and Dean was getting a little unnerved by how the archangel was so at home in the cramped little house. Bobby sighed and flopped down into his chair.

   “We’re not all young and spritely,” Bobby argued, trailing a hand over his face.

   “Yeah, sure,” Dean sighed, hauling himself up from the floor. “Need our rest to be up early, too.” He grinned and offered his hand out to Castiel.

   “Not that any of us will be sleeping for the next hour,” Gabriel murmured as he slumped down beside Sam on the sofa.

   “It’s Christmas! I only asked for one present from Cas,” Dean said with a wink, causing the young angel to blush and take the lead, dragging him out of the living room and up the stairs. Really Dean had only asked to spend the night with the angel, curled up in his wings, safe and secure. Of course Castiel had been willing to give that, but he also said Dean was in store for more than just cuddling. Dean could not help but think maybe the angel was giving himself a little present too.

~*~

   Dean was awake early, before the sun had even started to rise. It was cold in the house, making him burrow deeper into the sheets and into the warm embrace of Castiel’s wings. It was hard to think that just a few months ago they had been battered and broken. He smoothed his hand over the one that had been completely shattered, marvelling at the angel’s ability to heal. The feathered limb shivered gently and tightened its grip around Dean, pulling him closer as Castiel stirred gently.

   He may not have needed to sleep nowadays, but the angel still enjoyed indulging in the little ideas of humanity. He still took regular hot showers and loved curling up in a warm bed with Dean. Gabriel had told him that to ignore his want for humanity would lead to him becoming a mindless soldier again. Of course that was the last thing Castiel wanted. “Hey,” Dean muttered softly as Castiel opened one bleary eye to look at him.

   “It’s early,” the angel grumbled lowly. Dean smirked and leaned in to kiss Castiel’s lips gently. It was so easy to be intimate with him. It was one of the easiest things in Dean’s life. To love and be close to Castiel was like second nature.

   “It’s Christmas,” Dean replied in a low rumble, kissing the angel again before resting his head back on his pillow and continuing to smooth his hand slowly over the wing that was wrapped around him. Castiel hummed softly and closed his eyes again. He flexed rather like a cat at Dean’s touch, feathers shivering as the wing stretched out, muscles and bones popping in his body as he arched his back to stretch.

   Dean watched the angel for a few minutes, enjoying the soft feathers against his fingers as he caressed the arch of Castiel’s wing. It was times like this he could say this was the happiest he had been in a long time. He could never remember a time when he had been so satisfied with life. Castiel opened his eyes, both of them this time, and looked at Dean with the same unhidden adoration he had been displaying for months. With no boundaries to stop him anymore he was like a love sick puppy. Dean found it adorable. “We should get up, sounds like everyone else is already awake,” Dean sighed, running his hand up from the wing to Castiel’s neck, trailing his thumb over the faint stubble that crept there from the angel’s jaw.

   Castiel nodded and slowly unfurled his wing before sitting up. Dean pushed himself up from where he had been laid on Castiel’s over wing, allowing the angel to stretch them out across the room until the tips brushed either wall. The feathers shivered and fluttered as Castiel reached his arms up above his head and flexed his back again. Dean watched as the wings arched right up above Castiel’s head before folding down neatly against his back and fading out into the angelic plane.

   Being with an angel had its perks. There were not many men who could say they had had angelic feathers wrapped around their erection. It was also interesting to wake up with a feathered creature, to watch an angel flex and stretch like any bird. Castiel was often more catlike in his approach, but his preening what amusingly just like a bird.

   Preening had become something more common lately. Apparently an angel with a mate cared more about their appearance and that required making sure feathers were in order. Dean had to admit he enjoyed ruffling them up again, grabbing generous handfuls of them and tugging until Castiel cried out and came hard.

   They dressed and headed downstairs to find several sights that confused Dean all at once. Crowley was in the kitchen making a start on Christmas dinner, with Bobby cursing at him for taking up the whole kitchen with various arrangements of pots and pans and bowls of ingredients. Crowley was flaring his wings to show some sort of dominance but was apparently going about tidying up to make some room for Bobby to read the paper, because Bobby’s desk was taken up by Gabriel’s elaborate display of chocolate desserts, arranged smartly with different edible Christmas decorations. Gabriel apparently refused to move his little masterpiece. Balthazar was also there with an armful of presents arguing with Sam because they belonged under the tree, but apparently there was hardly enough room and most of the presents were highly inappropriate anyway.

   “Without chaos it wouldn’t be Christmas,” Gabriel offered cheerily from where he was arranging a particularly, Dean had to admit, delicious looking gateaux.

   “Apparently it wouldn’t be Christmas without making humans fat, either,” Castiel mused quietly, eying up the chocolate trifle was nearest to him. Dean would have punched him lightly for insinuating that he would get fat, but he had to admit that, yeah, he probably would eat most of what was on the desk.

   The day went on with varying amounts of chaos until the smell of cooking food settled into the house and they all lulled into a much calmer atmosphere. Dean would never tell him to his face, but Crowley was actually quite the good cook. He guessed it was all the years in existence, but then he was not sure if any of other angels would be quite so skilled. Gabriel could never make anything without making it sickly sweet and Castiel burned pancakes once. Balthazar had never even been seen to attempt to cook.

   By the time dinner came around things were a little calmer. Gabriel and Crowley argued briefly over a table before conjuring one up that was large and slightly ornate but did not totally overwhelm the kitchen. They all settled down around it and the angels dished up the good old fashioned way, instead of using their abilities to simply magic it all onto the table. It was quite the spread with turkey, ham, potatoes, vegetables and various sauces and gravy. It was enough to shut everyone up long enough to pile their plates up and start eating.

   Something about the whole atmosphere tugged at a part of Dean buried deep inside. This was what Christmas was meant to be like. It was warm and friendly and felt like home. Despite it being a mismatched group of people, it felt like the closest thing to a family Dean had had in a long time. Castiel had to agree with that sentiment. Of all the talk of brothers, and their Father, in Heaven, this was more like a family than Heaven had ever been. If the genuine smiles on the faces of Crowley, Gabriel and Balthazar were anything to go by then it really was the best family Christmas ever.

   And then there was Sam. It warmed Dean to his very core to see his brother smiling. After Lucifer, he did not think Sam could ever smile again. He had been hit with the crippling grief of the fallen archangel, secondary emotions making him suffer for weeks even after he was free. Dean had never seen his brother so sad, so overwhelmed by fear and grief. Seeing him smile and laugh between an archangel and Dean was possibly one of the best things to ever happen.

   “Well, who knew Azzy was such a star chef?” Gabriel mused before taking a fork loading with turkey and potato into his mouth. It had taken a lot of convincing for them to stop him adding some sort of sweet thing to his food, but Sam had finally won him over by saying he could be the first to open presents. Gabriel was such a child it was incredible.

   “Call me Azzy again, and I will smite you,” Crowley grumbled. Gabriel grinned around his food but did not respond.

   “I dunno, I think Azzy could stick,” Bobby piped up. Crowley tried to shoot him the most withering look, but Balthazar was soon joining in too.

   “Yeah, Azzy, fantastic meal. Couldn’t have done better myself.”

   “You can’t even cook,” Castiel muttered, prodding his turkey with his fork.

   “Dude, you burnt pancakes,” Dean laughed, only receiving a glower from the angel.

   “I was distracted,” Castiel argued, and the look in his eye told Dean he did not want to continue this conversation. It was indeed the truth that he had been distracted. Whether or not that distraction was Dean almost having his pants down against the kitchen counter was something no one would get to find out.

~*~

   Present opening was interesting. There were the standard things, such as the books of lore Sam received that gave him instant nerd boners. Some of them were ancient, and Dean suspected Gabriel had been bending a few rules to get them. Other gifts included a new knife from Bobby to Dean, something ornate yet practical that was said to have some mythical value but that would soon be settled when Dean took it out on a hunt, some new clothes for Castiel from Balthazar and Gabriel, because he needed to update his wardrobe and he looked quite dashing in jeans, and a bottle of one of England’s finest and oldest scotches for Bobby from Crowley.

   The interesting part came when people started to unwrap more of Balthazar’s presents. Other than the clothing package for Castiel, he had insisted they waited until last to open his gifts. Dean soon learned why. As he unwrapped a deceptively oblong package to find it was an open box containing a dildo, he felt his face flush and before he knew it his head was in his palm. “Dude, what the hell?” He laughed. All he could do was laugh. It was possibly the most inappropriate present he had ever received. Castiel took it from him to take a look, an amused smirk on his face.

   “Dean’s used to bigger,” he sighed, placing the box down on the floor. To say Dean was shocked by the totally crude remark was an understatement and to say his jaw dropped was not a lie.

   “Oh man, I’ve corrupted an angel,” he muttered.

   “Mine’s better,” Gabriel piped up. Dean turned his gaze to see the archangel unwrapping a positively giant chocolate penis.

   “What are you supposed to do with that?” Castiel said with a frown, resting his chin on his palm, elbow on his knee. Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the object in his hand before throwing a glance to Sam and grinning. Without another word he was licking his way up the chocolate like a true porn star, and no one in the room really knew where to look.

   “That is so not something I wanted to see,” Dean groaned, covering his eyes with one hand and rocking sideways to lean against Castiel. The angel beside him laughed, but was actually completely unabashed. He watched Gabriel with an amused grin.

   “You’re better,” he murmured so only Dean could hear.

   “Oh my God what is with you today,” Dean said through the laughter that threatened to erupt into something very loud and obnoxious. Castiel shrugged easily and looked to Dean, and there was a happiness in his eyes that Dean had not seen for a long time.

   “Just having fun,” Castiel said simply before looking back to Gabriel. It was amazing just how much chocolate penis an archangel could fit into his mouth, and just how uncomfortable a moose-sized man could look watching it.

   After the presents were opened, and yes all of Balthazar’s presents were penis orientated and yes watching Crowley open a dancing penis was the greatest thing in creation, they settled down for board games and alcohol. If Dean had to pick the best part of the day, and it was certainly difficult to do, he would probably pick being curled up on the sofa with Castiel resting calmly between his legs, head on his chest, as they drank a few beers and watched Sam beat the angels at Twister. Apparently long legs and good flexibility made it easier to reach across the matt and totally dominate anyone else who happened to get in the way.

   Balthazar was defeated when he tried to play some form of gay chicken with Sam and simply fell over, and Gabriel went down after trying a similar ploy and getting an awkward problem that only Dean seemed to notice before he sloped off to one side of the room to leave Sam to enjoy his victory. Somehow Dean knew the awkward archangel love was not over, and he was right as he watched from the sofa as Gabriel fiddled with something in his hands before moving towards where Sam was arguing with Bobby about the rules of a card game.

   As soon as Dean realised it was mistletoe he wanted to look away, and yet it was so fascinating. Luckily for Gabriel, Sam was sat down, making it so the archangel actually had a few inches on the younger hunter. Unluckily for Gabriel, Sam had never expressed any interest in men in his life. Apparently Sam took the same approach as his brother when it came to angels, however. Gabriel was far from just a man, and Sam acknowledged that by eying up the mistletoe above him for a moment before easily pulling the archangel down into a kiss, hand large and commanding against Gabriel’s neck.

   Dean smirked and caught the mistletoe that was tossed casually his way. Castiel chuckled and rolled his head to look at Dean, blue eyes gleaming with joy still. “Come here,” Dean murmured as he twirled the mistletoe in his fingers above Castiel’s head. The angel turned and leaned up to place a gentle, easy kiss to Dean’s lips. It was warm and perfect, adding to the happy haze of the best Christmas of Dean’s life.

   The mistletoe was tossed again, this time landing on the desk in front of Bobby. The old hunter eyed it up before looking over to Dean’s suggestive grin. “No,” he said firmly, but there was still a faint smile tugging at his lips. Crowley laughed and picked up the mistletoe.

   “Not even a peck?” Bobby rolled his eyes but still laughed, beginning to shuffle the cards that were on the desk in front of him.

   “Last time I kissed you I lost my soul,” Bobby muttered. Crowley dropped the mistletoe to the table and smirked before leaning down to press a kiss to Bobby’s cheek and move away from the desk.

   After a few games of cards, and after Dean had fallen asleep twice on the sofa, Bobby called them all over to one corner of the room. The same battered old camera that had taken their picture so long ago was set up on the other side of the room and Dean felt his stomach drop at the sight of it. Bobby must have noticed how his face fell, because he placed a warm hand to Dean’s shoulder. “This one’s gonna last,” he said quietly.

   Dean took a deep breath and nodded before pushing himself up to his feet and making his way over to where the rest were gathering. It was a clamour of wings and awkward angels, but they soon got themselves organised. Dean stood in the middle with Sam, Bobby between them and Castiel and Gabriel on either side. Balthazar stood beside Castiel and Crowley took up his place beside Gabriel. The camera timer ticked down and Dean felt the unease grow. Last time Castiel had ruined their mood, and he was waiting for the same to happen again. “Balthazar, please remove your hand from my testicles,” the angel breathed.

   The camera caught the moment they all burst into hysterics and the utter look of disbelief on Castiel’s face that his brother actually tightened his grip. This picture certainly would last.

~*~

It was a cold, clear night when Castiel led Dean from the house and out onto the porch. The stars twinkled overhead and the moon cast a silver glow on the untouched snow that had settled over the salvage yard. Dean turned to face the angel, marvelling as always at how the moonlight lit up his face in cool, blue tones, how his eyes gleamed and shone. “I didn’t want to give this to you inside,” Castiel said quietly, offering Dean a small, neatly wrapped package. He took it with and turned it over a few times in his hands before opening it slowly.

   It was light, almost weightless, and when Dean had it unwrapped it was a small, ornate box. Castiel was silent as Dean slowly opened the box. The breath caught in his chest as he laid eyes upon what was inside. It was a necklace, but it was so much more. Hung from a smart, black cord was a small dreamcatcher, clearly handmade. The silver beads threaded into the pattern gleamed in the moonlight, yet also seemed to glow with their own light. Hung from the bottom of the dreamcatcher was a single grey feather, long and elegant and reflecting light like smoke.

   Dean pulled the necklace from the box slowly and ran his fingers over the feather. “Cas… I…” Words were really not enough. He could see the sentiment behind it, could see the effort that had been put into making it. He simply knew Castiel had made it by hand, knew that no powers had been used to craft it.

   “Maybe now I can keep the bad dreams away forever,” Castiel muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Dean looked into those eyes and saw the expanse of time and space again, saw the impossible creature he had fallen in love with, and fell in love all over again. He slipped the cord around his neck before pulling the angel in to a soft, tender kiss, cradling his face gently in one hand as his other arm wrapped easily around his waist.

   He took back his earlier thought. This was the best part of the day. This was probably the best part of his life.

 


End file.
